Aftermath or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Conduit Gene
by Just One Face in the Crowd
Summary: Charlie Hunter is a young Conduit, just trying to live her life and escape anyone's notice. Unfortunately, her plans for a quiet, inconspicuous life are dashed when she gets involved with a group of Conduits trying to change the world, and save it at the same time. (Takes place about a year after inFamous: Second Son.)
1. Prologue

The day after I turned fifteen, I became a killer, and my life changed forever.

It was in self-defense, but that didn't matter. It didn't matter because I was Conduit, and I'd killed a man with my powers. It didn't matter that the man had been armed trying to kill me. It didn't matter he'd done terrible things to me. It didn't matter that in the end, he'd deserved to die.

I was a Conduit, a bioterrorist, a freak, a monster. Worse, now I was a murdering monster.

That's all the locals could see, it was all the D.U.P. could see, so I became invisible.

I ran, I hid, I became one of the faceless things living on the street, and I stayed under the radar, away from people, away from anything that could hurt me, or that could be hurt by me.

Because that's what bioterrorists do, right? They hurt people. They're monsters, right?

That's what the D.U.P. wanted us to believe, and we did, for a while. Even me. Because I was just a scared kid, I had no idea how to fully control what I was, what I did. The first time I'd used whatever it was I had, I'd killed somebody.

It didn't matter that I hadn't even known I was a Conduit. In the eyes of others, I was a bioterrorist. Something to feared, locked away, and forgotten.

Then I met some people. People like me. Good people.

Bad things happen to good people.

And happen they did.

But we made a difference, I like to think.

We tried.

And really, isn't that all anyone can do?

My name's Charlie Hunter, and this is the story of how I learned to stop worrying and love the Conduit gene.


	2. Chapter 1: Life with Oz

All things considered, the day began rather well. After all, it's not every day you get woken up by your best friend throwing a bag of donuts at your face.

"Breakfast." A deep voice muttered. Mercifully, I had learned how to speak 'Oz' so I actually understood him, otherwise it would have sounded like a slurred grunt. I groaned in answer but reluctantly pulled an arm out of my sleeping-bag to pick up the donuts.

"Good morning to you, too." I said, yawning as I sat up and opened the bag. He'd saved me my favorite: the powdered ones.

I grinned and started to reach in the bag for one but hesitated and glanced up at Oz. He sat a little ways away from me, rummaging through his bag for something, probably to make sure his lighter was still there or something. It was a surprisingly cold morning, the last day of September had been just last week and it was as though Washington had decided to completely dispense with autumn and move straight into winter.

"Did you have some?" I asked. Oz grunted and nodded, but didn't meet my eyes.

"Oz?" I insisted, he sighed, looked at me from under shaggy black hair that was a little matted from lack of bathing, and he leaned towards me.

"Yes, I ate some." He said, making a point to enunciate every word. "They threw out two dozen of those things. Had plenty, don't worry about it."

I held his gaze for a moment, and then nodded, satisfied.

Aside from being a little cold and a little stale, the donuts were the best things I'd had all week.

When I was done, I pushed the bag aside and leaned back against my backpack. I even let out a little burp of appreciation. Under the beard, I saw Oz smile a little at that and his gray eyes peered at me from under all that hair.

"Hrm?" he grunted at me.

I nodded.

"Great." I acknowledged, "Now I'm either going to get high on the sugar, or crash from a sugar overload."

"Been sleepin' all night." Oz responded, "Most of the mornin'." I frowned and peered out from under our shelter, which was an old, dilapidated brick bridge that used to connect the main road to a mill that went out of business probably before either of us were born.

Gray clouds sat low in the sky, slowly passing over us in waves like a giant, silver sea. Rain fell steadily from the sky, creating a soothing, whispering sound. One thing that did strike me was that nothing held that sleepy, hazy feel of morning. This meant I had indeed slept way past what I usually did.

I frowned and glanced quizzically at Oz.

He shrugged.

"Afternoon." He explained.

"God, Oz," I groaned, rubbing the last of the sleep out of my eyes and beginning to crawl out of my sleeping-bag.

"Why didn't you wake me?"

He humphed quietly. It was an embarrassed sound and it made me pause as I squatted, trying to disentangle my feet from the interior of the bag.

He looked at me then.

"Not been sleepin' well." He said with a shrug. He was referring to my nightmares, of course. About nine nights out of ten I'd wake up in a cold sweat, or wake up hyperventilating. Sometimes Oz would wake me because the sounds I was making were…how'd he put it?

"Downright disturbin'."

I finished getting out of my bed, rolled it up, tied it up with some bootlaces, and put it with my bag before sitting down again and regarding Oz in silence.

He made a show of not noticing that I was watching him.

Oz is one of the best people in the world, and you'd never know it to look at him. Honestly, he kind of looks like the guy who'd shank you in a darkened alley if you're not careful. That's kind of what I love about him.

Oz is about six feet tall, but he's kind of lean and gangly so he looks taller than he really is. He looks like he's had it rough, or at least been living on the streets a long time, and he has, though I'm not exactly sure how long.

I asked him about it one time and he said he'd been out here since he was "A dumb kid." But he then refused to tell me how old he was, so I'm still not sure.

If I had to guess, I'd think he's somewhere in his late twenties, though he could be in his mid-thirties too. He has that kind of agelessness about him. That's not to say he looks young, he just looks like he won't get any older. His hair might go gray, but other than that he's never gonna change.

His hair's not gray yet, though. It's black, but sometimes it looks brown when he goes too long without washing it. Even when he does wash it, it kind of stays messy and matted looking, which is part of what intimidates people, I guess.

That, and his beard.

Gandalf has got nothing on Oz's beard. It's a sight to behold.

Like I said, he looks like he'd be the kind of guy to live under a bridge, and he also looks like he might kill you if you wander underneath his bridge, but really he's a great big teddy bear. Once you get past his reticence, you won't find a nicer guy.

Oh, and if you're curious, his name really isn't Oz. He did tell me that much; his real name is Oscar, but Oz is easier to say. And by that I guess he meant it's easier to grunt.

Oz found me not too long after I ran away from the world. I was sick, really sick. I'd gone a couple of days without food and wasn't as careful as I should have been with some crap from a dumpster, and ended up wandering the outskirts of town, half out of my mind with fever and hallucinating from dehydration from puking so much.

A couple of guys stopped to 'help' me. I knew what they were doing, but I was as weak as a kitten, Conduit or no Conduit, and Oz stepped in to help.

I owe Oz my life.

I told him about my…condition. I thought it was only fair. I told him about why I was out here. I half expected him to turn me into the D.U.P., but he didn't. After I told him, he just sat quietly for a minute, then grunted, nodded, and that was that.

Almost a year together, and he was still looking out for me.

Impulsively, I reached over and gave him a quick hug. It had to be quick, we were kind of at an awkward angle so I nearly fell on him trying to pull it off. I managed to avoid that catastrophe, and pulled away before either of us could get any more embarrassed.

"Thanks, man." I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck.

"Hrm." He grunted again.

"Okay," I said, in a very obvious-uh, I mean, subtle, attempt to change the subject; "what're we doing today?"

"Work." Oz answered, beginning to gather his things together. Everything I needed was already in my bag, so I just watched him pack.

"Okay, hear of anything?"

"Hrm." Oz answered, shrugging. That was a 'no.' I sighed and nodded, pulling one of the straps of my backpack over my shoulder.

"Same old, same old?" I asked. He nodded again.

Whenever we started running low on food, and it started getting cold, we'd go around to different restaurants and bars and ask to clean, wash dishes, even busk tables in exchange for food, or even leftovers.

You'd be surprised at how often we'd get taken up on those offers.

And then of course there were always the dumpsters behind supermarkets. Oz had taught me those were the better places to check. Fast food places were okay, but you had to get the food right as it was thrown out or there was too much of a risk.

Pizza places were pretty good about just giving left over pizza to you if you waited by the back door long enough.

With cold weather fast approaching, we'd also need to start looking for warmer clothes. My pants were getting new holes in them almost every other day, I'd worn them for so long, and my sweater was about in the same shape.

Oz never complained, but I knew his shirt and jacket wasn't nearly enough to keep off the chill of the night, especially with how wet it had been lately.

Once Oz had packed everything, I slipped out from underneath the bridge and into the wet stillness of the day.

There wasn't much traffic on this road, which was one of the reasons we'd chosen this spot, but it also meant we'd have to walk a pretty good ways before we got into Seattle. A long, wet, cold walk. I frowned and wrinkled my nose, staring up at the sky.

Oz paused beside me, regarded me in bemusement, then looked up to see what I was looking at.

"We need an umbrella." I said.

"Hrm." Oz acknowledged.

I chewed on my lip for a moment, considering it, and then shrugged.

'Screw it, gotta use it sometime.' I thought.

I stretched my hand up above my head and took a breath. The tips of my fingers began to glow a pale blue color. The color reminded me a little of a monarch butterfly every time I saw it. The water began to bend and fall aside from me.

I spread my fingers a little and the arc grew so that now the water wasn't touching either Oz or me. It wasn't like the water hit a force-field, or anything, it just slid around us. It almost looked natural, almost.

I lowered my hand, but the rain continued to fall around us, so the effect was still in place.

Breathing a satisfied, if relieved, sigh, I glanced a little bashfully at Oz. He was staring at me, but it wasn't a bewildered or even fearful look. He looked curious, but in a polite way.

"If it bothers you, I can stop." I murmured to him.

"'S fine." He answered. We started walking, and I watched the rain patter around us.

"It hurt?" Oz's question came unexpectedly. It was so seldom he spoke unless spoken to, much less asked a question that I was completely taken aback for a moment. I jerked my head up and looked at him. He didn't look as though he'd even spoken, so I was wondering if I'd imagined it when his stormy eyes met mine again.

"What, this?" I asked, lifting my hand and watching the tips of my fingers glow blue.

"Hrm." Oz eloquently confirmed.

"No." I answered. "Not in the way you mean."

He raised an eyebrow at that. I shrugged.

"Sorry," I said, "Angst, again." He just nodded in sympathy. I sighed again, watching my breath mist. Just out of curiosity, I reached my hand up again, this time my fingers glowing an ethereal, white color. The mist from my breath froze in place, and began to swirl delicately in the air, dancing inches from my face, in time with the movement of my fingers.

I balled my hand into a fist, and the mist evaporated.

"It kind of scares me." I admitted. "Even doing little things. It scares me." I frowned and looked at the big man beside me.

"Does that make sense?" I asked, "I know you're probably thinking: 'Then don't do it', but…I can't help but think if I don't at least practice every once in a while, then when I do use it, I won't have any control at all. Like…"

My voice caught in my throat, but Oz nodded in understanding.

"'S all right." He murmured. Then he turned his head and looked down at me, a sad, sympathetic smile on his lips. He took a hand out of his pocket and used a finger to poke me in the shoulder.

"Heavy load to carry," he said, "can't be easy. Let it out once in a while. Just be careful. 'S all you can do."

"Does it bother you?" I asked after a pause.

After everything that had gone down in Seattle, with the D.U.P., and Augustine, and the Smoke-Man, or whatever his name was; things were a little better for Conduits. For once, people were actually considering the idea of living side-by-side with Conduits, but change doesn't happen immediately.

There were still people out there who wanted nothing more than to see us all locked away where we couldn't hurt anybody. I could see their side of the argument, but at the same time, there had to be a lot of Conduits out there, like me, who just wanted to live and be left alone. Those who didn't even like to use their powers.

"Not anymore." Oz answered. "Little freaky." He added with a smirk.

I smirked back and flicked my hand. A spatter of water splashed him in his face, catching him by surprise.

"Show off." He muttered, wiping his face.

I giggled quietly, hiding it by pretending to scratch my cheek.

"Sorry." I said.

"Not." He muttered at me.

"You doubt my sincerity?" I asked, putting my hand to my chest in mock hurt. "You wound me, sir."

"Not yet." He answered.

I gave him a shove which didn't even make him falter in his stride, and he returned it by clipping my arm with his elbow without even taking his hands out of his pockets. I stumbled and rubbed my shoulder, pouting at him.

"Bully." I said.

"Hrm." Oz answered with another smirk and then playfully ruffled my hair, tugging some of the powder-blue fringe into my eyes.

I couldn't help but grin at him.

It was moments like these that made me insanely grateful and overwhelmed to have a friend at all, let alone one that accepted what I was with little more than a grunt.

In spite of the less than cheerful weather, it was actually turning into a pleasant day, for once.

That's what I get for being even slightly optimistic.

That'll teach me.

_( Hey guys, I know it's a bit of a slow start but every superhero has to have a little back-story, right? Anyway, thanks for reading! Let me know what you think so far and if there's anything I could improve upon, constructive criticism is always more than welcome. Thanks again!)_


	3. Chapter 2: For Us, or Against Us?

I raised my hand to my forehead and wiped away some of the sweat. I'd been hauling dirty dishes back to the kitchen all day, and those trays get heavy after a while. Not to mention I'd spent a good three hours cleaning the bathrooms in the restaurant.

I know you're thinking I must be pretty ungrateful to be complaining about the exertion of working, but keep in mind that this was the fourth place I'd been to after Oz and I reached the city. I'd been at this sort of thing literally all day.

Had I been close to a window, I would have noticed that the sun was setting, which meant Oz would be coming to get me pretty soon.

We had a sort of schedule whenever we came into town. We'd find whatever work we could and either get money or food, or both, and then at around six o'clock we'd meet up and make it down to one of the shelters for an actual hot meal, maybe hear the local news or gossip, and then go home.

"You doin' all right there, Blue?" a woman's voice interrupted my short-lived break. I looked over at Gretchen, the manager. Gretchen could be annoying sometimes, but she meant well. One of the annoying things she did was call me 'Blue', which mostly just annoyed me because of how unoriginal it was.

Yeah, I have blue hair, so Blue is really the best nickname you can come up? Why not got for Periwinkle if you're just going for colors?

Anyway, all in all she's a good person. She always lets me work for her when I show up. This was my sixth time working here.

"Fine, thanks." I answered, hoisting the tub of dirty dishes up onto my shoulder and moving from the dining area into the kitchen and over to the sink.

I'd gotten a few curious glances when I first came in, but no one really asked me questions in the back. A few of the waiters and waitresses I recognized but I didn't know their names, and some of the cooks looked familiar, but everyone else was a stranger to me.

I didn't volunteer information at these places, and for the most part they didn't ask.

There was one kid, Todd I think his name was, who kept making a comment about my hair or my clothes. Making jokes about how I was bringing grunge back and all that sort of crap. I doubt he knew just how literal the 'grunge' part of my so-called style was, but I ignored him enough to the point he finally left me alone.

"Here you go, sweetie." Gretchen said, suddenly appearing at my elbow with two paper-sacks that had an odd mix of canned goods and small to-go boxes. I handed off my tub of dishes to a waiting washer, and turned to take the bags from her.

"Thanks." I said quietly. She smiled brightly at me and patted (actually patted) me on the head.

"Any time, dear, any time at all." She said with an attempt at a bubbly laugh. I say attempt because it came out as a gurgle.

She glanced around (a little obviously) and then leaned forward, pulling something out of her pocket, and stuck it into the pocket on my cargo pants.

"A little something extra," she whispered very loudly, "for old times' sake."

"Thank you." I said sincerely, and smiled, or at least attempted to. I tend to overthink facial expressions; I start to wonder how I must look and try to alter whatever I think I must look like, so it ends up just looking weird, probably.

Paranoia and anxiety will make you overthink a lot of things, okay?

Gretchen gurgled again and gave my shoulder a motherly squeeze, and then disappeared as suddenly as she'd appeared.

That's what annoys me about Gretchen. Deep down I think she really is a good person, otherwise she wouldn't be helping me, but the thing is she makes such a show about it that it's kind of embarrassing.

It's like she's saying: "Look at the good thing _I_ did, isn't it wonderful?"

I won't begrudge her the thrill of it, though. I mean, she does help. And sometimes I doubt she even does it, so I usually let it slide. I just kind of groan inwardly whenever she does anything obvious, like try and hug me, or ask about my parents, or say things like: "It must be _so_ hard." Etc.

"Hey, Blue." That kid, Todd, or Tadd…he wasn't wearing his nametag so I really don't know what his name was, but I was almost positive it was Todd so we'll roll with that.

No one knew my name, they'd never bothered to ask. They'd just started calling me Blue…

Thanks Gretchen.

Instead of verbally answering, I ducked my head down and raised an eyebrow at him from under my hair.

"There's…uh….a guy…big guy…scary guy…says he's with the 'Kid with the hair.'"

I nodded. Oz had come to my rescue.

I clutched the paper bags tightly and walked to the rear exit, which opened onto the alley. Oz was waiting for me, looking a little more bedraggled than usual, but there was some more color to his cheeks, at least.

He glanced down at the bags I was carrying and nodded in approval before reaching out to grab them.

"Need to grab my jacket and my bag," I told him, "Hold on a sec."

He grunted in affirmation.

I went back in and headed to the little closet they called a break-room and retrieved my coat. As I slipped it on, I grabbed my backpack as soon as my right arm was through the sleeve on my coat and started heading for the backdoor when something caught my attention.

To this day, I can't pinpoint what it was that made me hesitate. I'd been hearing people chatter and talk all day long, in fact it was what had given me a headache two hours ago. It doesn't make sense that two, quiet voices, barely audible over the din coming from the dining area, should arrest my attention.

But it did.

Because I could have sworn I heard the word: "Bioterrorist."

I froze in place and turned slowly to look for whoever had spoken the word.

The problem with the restaurant was that it was too tiny for as many people as they squeezed in. And calling it a restaurant was giving it too much credit, really. It was really a little diner type of a place, just with expensive decorations.

The hallway that connected the break-room to the kitchen, the bathrooms, and the backdoor, was separated only by a pair of metal swinging doors, one of which always wanted to stay open, so we usually just let it.

The doors were just opposite the break-room, so I must have heard one of the patrons mutter it, or maybe one of the waiters had. I never found out, but it doesn't really matter.

Fate has a funny way of playing itself out without revealing a lot of the details to you.

Cautiously, I stuck my head into the dining area and glanced around. No one really took any notice of me, so my fear that someone had been talking about me was assuaged, somewhat.

I gave a sigh of relief and started to pull away again, when once again, something caught my attention: there were two TV's set up in the dining area, on opposite sides of the room, in the corners. I could see one now, and saw a news bulletin playing on it.

Not everyone was watching it, since there was no sound, just closed-captioning; but those who were watching looked troubled, if not downright angry.

Curioser and curioser.

I frowned and moved a little closer to get a better look.

"-growing unrest in the communities where civilians are living with known carriers of the Conduit gene." I read, "Following the dissolve of the DUP in the Seattle area, Conduits, or, bioterrorists, as they have also been called, are becoming a more common sight. Some reports even indicate that those with the Conduit gene are beginning to flippantly display their powers with growing frequency."

They cut to a live-shot of a woman, middle-aged and clutching her teenage daughter as though a 'bioterrorist' might suddenly appear and infect her daughter.

"It's not safe," she declared, according to the text at the bottom of the screen, "these freaks running around, blasting lightning around or whatever it is they have. It's not safe for the children. What's to keep them from using whatever it is they've got to take whatever they want from us?"

"What would your recommendation be?" the reporter asked.

"We need another Curdun Cay," she replied immediately, "someplace where these things can be watched."

"There are those who claim Curdun Cay was a violation of human rights." The reporter pointed out.

The woman rolled her eyes.

"In case you didn't notice," she said, a loathsome little smirk on her face, "last time I checked, humans don't shoot smoke or concrete out of their hands. Those things _aren't_ people, that's what I'm trying to say. We can't treat them like they are, they'll take advantage."

"Ma'am, what if your daughter, I'm assuming this is your daughter, what if she turned out to possess the Conduit gene? Would that make her less human to you?"

The woman blinked in shock, and to be honest I was surprised the reporter had asked the question at all. She stammered and looked at the girl beside her, who now looked embarrassed to be even standing beside the woman.

"W-Well, I-uh…" she looked flustered and glared at the reporter. "How dare you suggest such a thing?" she demanded, "How dare you-"

"So there you are," the reporter continued, and the camera swung away from the woman and her daughter and showed the reporter, a man in his early thirties, with thick brown hair, goatee, and a mischievous glint in his deep brown eyes; "live from the streets of Seattle. As long as it's not happening to you, or anyone you know, it's perfectly fine to strip the rights of people who've done nothing wrong except be born different from the rest of us." He smirked as the woman started yelling incoherently and then nodded at the camera.

"This has been David Berenger. Back to you, Chloe."

The camera cut back to Chloe, who looked both confused, distraught, and on the verge of laughter. She hastily composed herself and shuffled the papers around on her desk. When she looked back up at the camera, she was in control once more.

"Thank you, David," she said, "while we're awaiting official word on what's to be done about the situation from state and federal governments, there is a Q&amp;A session scheduled today for local law enforcement, which will be held outside the city hall."

She started talking about something else, and I took a breath, suddenly realizing I'd been holding it this whole time.

That David guy, the reporter, he'd seemed to be pretty sympathetic, which was a surprise. Ever since Concrete Woman…Augustine, had gotten taken down, the press had been really cautious when covering anything to do with Conduits, or their rights.

They didn't want to appear too sympathetic, in case it turned out trusting us was indeed a bad idea and it backfired; and they didn't want to incur the wrath of the few Conduits who had made their presence known. Not to mention there were dozens, if not hundreds, more out there.

Like me.

Making a comment like that on TV was a risky move. It could cost him his job, but he'd said it anyway.

I smiled slightly, but immediately lost the smile when I heard someone at a table nearby mutter: "Bunch of freaks." In a tone that was practically dripping with disgust.

I frowned, feeling anger sweep through me. There was a small vase with a single rose in it, and a little water in the bottom.

I glanced around, made sure no one was watching me, and then stepped back out into the hall. I stared at the vase, getting ready to dump it over, but then caught myself right before I did.

What would it accomplish if I did? Personal satisfaction, perhaps, but wasn't I just proving his point if I took advantage of my power?

That seemed kind of pointless.

'How dare you not think I'm a good person! I shall splash you with water with my powers you so greatly fear!'

Yeah, really mature.

I sighed, lowered my hand just as the tips of my fingers started to glow blue, and then went to join Oz.

"Sorry it took so long." I apologized when he gave an impatient humph at me. "Got distracted."

We started walking down the alley to the main road. We walked in silence, as usual, and I watched my feet, thinking very hard about something.

I'd mostly avoided anything having to do with Conduits, but the news report had made me curious. Just what did people around here think about us? Were they happy? Neutral? Aggressive? I'd been away from the whole scene for so long, but what if things had really changed?

Sure that woman had been dead-set against us, but that reporter…What if there were more supporters now?

But I doubted Oz wanted to make a detour to go to the city hall to listen to a press conference. I had to be sneaky. Sort of.

"Hey," I said, "why don't we go to the shelter downtown? We haven't been to that one in a while."

Oz glanced down at me quizzically, but shrugged and gave an almost imperceptible nod. We altered course to head back up and around the block. It was a twenty minute walk to the shelter, depending on traffic, and it was about two blocks away from the city hall.

I would have to make some excuse to go that way once we got there, and Oz would probably get annoyed with me once he figured out what I was doing, but I'd make it up to him somehow. I'd give him the money Gretchen had given me.

Yeah, that'd work, right?

And the press conference couldn't last that long, could it? It was getting dark, people would want to get home soon, so it would probably just be a quick one.

Really I just wanted to see how many people were holding signs for or against us Conduits.

And maybe that David guy would be there, too?

Probably not, but stranger things have happened.

I'm the perfect example of that.


	4. Chapter 3: Of Course it Went Wrong

We heard the commotion before we ever saw it, and we were still a block away. Oz heard it and tensed, like a wary dog, and lifted his head to try and see what all the fuss was about.

"See anything?" I asked him.

He gave more of a growl than a grunt, which meant he saw a lot of people. I followed his line of sight and when we came completely around the corner, there was indeed quite the crowd around the city hall.

"C'mon." Oz grunted, grabbing hold of my shoulder protectively and steering me towards the shelter. I bit my lip, my resolve starting to wilt. There were an awful lot of people, and I had a feeling not many of them were pro-Conduit.

Then again, how could I know that for sure? What if I missed something important about how Conduits were to be treated by the local cops? I needed to know if I needed to be more on guard or not. But then again, I was always on guard already, so there wasn't much of a point, was there?

Too many possibilities, too many options. I sighed and followed Oz. It'd been a stupid idea to try and attend the thing, anyway. It didn't change anything.

We had moved a good ways down the street, away from the city hall when the echo of loudspeakers drifted down to us: "We appreciate the turnout," a man's voice was saying, he sounded tense, a little nervous, and thin on patience as well, "and we'll get underway with the Q&amp;A regarding the matter of Seattle Conduits as soon as the protestors will quit blocking the cameras with those signs."

The last sentence came out almost as a bark. I almost laughed, he sounded so cranky.

At the word "Conduits" however, Oz had come to a halt and looked back with quite an impressive scowl.

"Yes ma'am," the voice continued, addressing someone in the crowd, presumably, "you have the right to protest, but people at home have the right to hear and see the broadcast, which you're disrupting. You can be courteous and think of others, or you can be insufferable and rude and disruptive and delay everything. Your choice."

"Conduits…." Oz murmured. He looked down at me and raised an eyebrow. I blushed and suddenly became very fascinated with the pebbles on the pavement.

"I heard about it on the news," I explained, no point in lying now, "I thought we'd attend but…I realized it doesn't really matter, does it?" I looked up, "It doesn't change anything about us, not really. I don't know why I even wanted to go."

I started to walk towards the shelter again, tugging on his sleeve, "Let's go." I told him, but Oz remained an immovable wall.

"Could've said." He muttered with a sigh. He furrowed his brow and chewed on the inside of his cheek, which was a sign he was thinking hard about something.

Abruptly, he turned on his heal and started walking back towards city hall.

"Oz!" I called after him, trotting to catch up. "Oz, we should go."

"C'mon." he responded, "Get this over with."

I felt horribly guilty for some reason. He didn't seem angry, but I knew crowds were not Oz's favorite thing, and this wasn't anything to do with him, really. It was all my deal, and I felt bad enough that we had to exercise extra caution whenever we came into town just because of what I was. Then I drag him right into the middle of another Conduit problem.

It wasn't fair to Oz. I wished I had just kept my big mouth shut.

It was too late to stop him, though. He had that determined stiffness in his spine and shoulders. He was still holding the bags of food I'd brought, which, for whatever reason, struck me as being rather a pitiful sight.

We drew closer, and as we did I noticed a news van pulling up, searching for a parking space in the sea of cars.

'Bit late to the party.' I thought, catching up to Oz as he moved to the very back of the crowd.

"Thank you for your cooperation." The man on the loudspeaker was saying, and the woman who'd been holding the sign moved to the far side of the crowd, away from the cameras, looking very disgruntled.

The man speaking looked like a very harassed PA or something along those lines. He had black hair that normally would have been neatly combed, but now looked disheveled. He kept adjusting the glasses on his face, and he had the sleeves on his button-up shirt rolled up, though one had come unrolled and flopped over his hand.

I don't think the cameras were rolling yet, or if they were they weren't going to get much reassurance that everything was under control, just going by how that guy looked.

"I told you we didn't need to stop for coffee." A voice muttered behind us. I glanced back and saw the news van had the side-door rolled back and a reporter and a slightly portly cameraman were filing out.

The reporter in question was the same one who I'd seen on TV earlier, David something…Berenger, I think.

He ran a hand through his mop of hair and sighed in frustration. I hastily turned away before he caught me staring at him, and instead looked to the platform.

"All right," the disheveled young man was saying, scanning the crowd as though getting a headcount, "Commissioner Newman will be coming out in just a second, let's try and keep the questions brief and to the point. He's going to be giving a short announcement before the questions start, so don't bombard him as soon as he gets out here."

He consulted something written on his arm.

"Oh yeah!" he said, "And please don't all shout your questions at once, this session is only going to last fifteen minutes and we want to get to as many questions as possible, so please raise your hand and he'll get to you."

He looked around again.  
"Everyone get that?" he asked. There was a chorus of affirmations. The young man smiled in relief, nodded, and gave one last scan of the crowd.

By this time, the reporter, David, had joined the rear of the crowd, and I saw him lift his left hand slightly in a wave.

The PA froze for a moment, acknowledged the wave by giving another brief nod that he covered up by adjusting his glasses, and then quickly went and stood aside from the platform and the cameras. He seemed to be moving towards us.

I frowned.

The PA knew David? That was…interesting. Not sure why, but for some reason it stirred my curiosity.

I didn't have long to be curious because the doors to the city hall opened and the police commissioner came out, accompanied by a few other official looking stuffed shirts.

He stepped up to the platform and tapped the microphone, then cleared his throat.

"Thank you all for taking the time to join me here, today," he said, "it's good to see so many people interested and involved in the community." He cleared his throat again, "As you all know we still haven't received any official instructions from the governor. As of yet there haven't been any serious allegations laid against any known Conduits, but there have been growing concerns as to the wisdom of letting these…" he seemed to struggle with the right word to use, even from the distance I thought I saw beads of sweat breaking out on his face, "individuals," he looked quite pleased with having found a loophole; "go about with no restriction put upon them."

By this time the PA had reached the reporter, and they'd moved off to the side, away from the crowd. I shifted slightly and moved slowly around the edge so that I was standing closer to them.

"-deal with the governor?" The reporter, David, was asking. The PA sighed tiredly and rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses.

"He's scared," the PA said, "they're all scared. The President doesn't know what to do either, or at least if he does he's not letting the rest of us in on what he has planned. He just keeps telling everyone to 'Keep the public pacified until a permanent solution can be found'."

"Yeah, that doesn't sound suspicious at all." David muttered, "And 'permanent solution' never sounds positive."

"I know, I know," the PA sighed, "Governor Richmond doesn't know what to do. He told the mayor to do what needs to be done locally, and he told Newman about the same thing."

He pointed up at the Commissioner, who had been droning on about the different (unfounded) concerns of the public.

"So we have come to a temporary solution," the Commissioner said, looking nervous but stressing the word 'temporary' a bit more than I thought necessary. That could only mean that the solution they'd come up with was not a pleasant one, if he was already trying to calm people down.

"Starting next month, all possessors of the Conduit gene will be required to register with their local police station. This method of action is expected to not just be adopted in Seattle, but other major cities in Washington as well."

There was a loud swelling of murmurs, both complaints and approvals.

I looked over at Oz. He was scowling, but didn't look towards me.

"Seriously?" I heard David say with a snort, "Didn't they try that with the X-Men?"

"They don't know what else to do," The PA explained, "they're terrified to pull another Curdun Cay. And there are growing supporters for the Conduits, which you'd know all about." Something about the way he smiled when he said that made me smile too.

"Like Newman said," the PA continued, "this is a temporary fix, and we're not even expecting it to work."

"It's like my dad always said," David broke in, "laws are for the good. This isn't going to help anyone. The Conduits already feel enough like outsiders, they haven't even done anything wrong and they're still going to have to get registered. Does that mean every time they move somewhere fliers are going to get sent out to their neighbors warning them that a big bad Conduit is moving in?"

David had grown steadily louder during his tirade. He shook his head in agitation.

"This isn't a temporary solution," he finished, "it's not a solution at all."

"And what would you suggest?" The PA asked.

David shrugged helplessly.

"I'm too busy trying to keep track of all the bad decisions to come up with good ones." He said with a smirk, "Maybe you should come up with something, Nolan."

The PA, Nolan, gave short laugh and shook his head ruefully.

"Too busy keeping you informed," he answered with a smirk. He grabbed David's shoulder and gave him a shove towards the crowd.

"Now get out there and keep _your_ people informed." He ordered.

David sighed and signaled to his cameraman as Nolan strode back towards the platform.

I slid back to Oz as David started giving instructions to his cameraman. I don't think Oz had noticed I'd drifted away, or if he had he wasn't letting on.

The murmurs had grown to a dull roar, and contrary to Nolan's instructions, everyone was shouting questions at the Commissioner at once. He looked perturbed and his eyes darted around, looking for a question to answer.

"All right, everyone calm down, please." He leaned into the microphone when he said it, so it wasn't shouting but it was about as close as you can get.

The crowd reluctantly obeyed and he pointed to one woman who'd been quite vocal in her question.

"You just said that there haven't been any Conduits do anything wrong, so why should they have to register themselves?" she asked.

"That's a very good question," the Commissioner said, stalling, he glanced back at Nolan, who had magically produced a sheet of paper from out of nowhere and deftly handed it to Newman before backing away quickly.

Newman cleared his throat.

"No, the Conduits have not done anything wrong," he said after scanning the paper, "however, with individuals possessing such incredible abilities, we have to exercise caution."

"But isn't it true most of the Conduits released from Curdun Cay were imprisoned there simply because they possessed the Conduit gene?"

It was David who'd shouted the question. Everyone turned towards him and he began to push his way through the crowd, followed closely by his cameraman. The Commissioner looked annoyed and sighed.

"Local law enforcement had nothing to do with Curdun Cay, that was an independent governmental undertaking-"

"So we're to believe local law enforcement didn't help the DUP round up people who hadn't done anything wrong, and imprison them?" David continued. Now everyone looked uncomfortable.

"All right, I think we should bring this to a close-" Newman said, signaling the cameramen, but David wasn't finished.

"And are we just going to ignore the fact that the government is more than willing to use Conduits to do their dirty work?" he asked, getting loud, "Augustine was one example, but there have been a couple of accounts where agents of the government have turned out to be Conduits. Strange that the most dangerous of Conduits have turned out to be working for the government."

There was a deathly silence after that one.

David smiled brightly.

"No offense intended, but it seems to me that every time the government gets involved in this sort of thing, more people get hurt. Why can't we just leave them alone? Aren't we supposed to assume them innocent until proven guilty?" He turned, then, facing the crowd, facing us.

"Isn't the Savior of Seattle a Conduit? If he had been imprisoned for possessing the Conduit gene, where would we be today? Under the DUP regime? Policed by people on a witch hunt?"

He shook his head.

"This whole thing is ridiculous. The government can't fix anything like this. This is out of their league."

"And what happens when they aren't watched?" a man broke in, "What happens when we have one decide to use what he has to go on a rampage?"

"What's to stop you from deciding to go on a rampage?" David countered. "We have people who walk into schools, hospitals, banks, churches and shoot the place up. Murder civilians, murder police. We simple people can cause just as much damage as the Conduits, yet we don't have to live in fear of being yanked from our homes and imprisoned just because we _might_ do something wrong."

I swear to God I was about to start cheering right then and there.

Then all Hell broke loose.

Newman started to say something in response to David, but before he could, the biggest roar I'd ever heard in my life came from behind us. A huge blast of heat and air hit my back like a sledgehammer, and I felt flames lick at the back of my head.

The blast completely took out my ability to hear as I felt myself lifted off the ground and thrown into the mass of people.

It's a bizarre experience, being in an explosion, at least for me it was.

It was like a part of my mind was completely shut down, while another part of my mind seemed to leave me entirely and casually observe everything that was happening. There was even a third part that supplied ridiculous thoughts, such as: "I wonder if this is how lava feels when it's shot out of a volcano."

The part of my mind that observed the scene noticed that the very rear part of the crowd was thrown forward under a hail of glass, metal, and fire. The middle of the crowd promptly panicked at the sudden onslaught of noise and people suddenly flying and slamming into them. The ones along the edges ran, while those behind them attempted to do the same and only succeeded in entangling themselves with people lying on the ground, or tripping up the ones who were fleeing.

The people at the very front of the crowd either hunched down, screaming, or tried to scramble up the platform, where the cameramen were either looking around wildly for help or going above and beyond their job-detail and swiveling the cameras to capture the aftermath.

Then all the bits of my mind came flooding back to me in a torrential rush that was too overwhelming for me to handle on top of having a bomb explode right behind me.

It didn't help that everyone around me was screaming in terror, either.

'Run.' I told myself, and moved my legs accordingly, but went nowhere. Then I realized I was lying on top of someone. I pushed off of them and scrambled away from the confusion of people, too bewildered to think of…well, anything really.

There's so many thoughts that slam into you all at once when something like this happens that you can't really think to do anything at all. I wanted to help, I wanted to run, I wanted to make everything stop, I wanted the noise to stop and I wanted it to stop being so hot and I wanted everyone to just stop yelling.

So I just stood there, frozen.

Then it occurred to me I had no idea what had blown up and I whirled around to face the street.

A car across the street had blown up, and was still burning. In fact it was an inferno.

"Charlie!"

The voice was screaming in my ear, over the distant screams of the people around me. They weren't distant, of course, but my hearing didn't want to come back.

I turned and saw Oz standing beside me, relieved and shaken all at once. There was glass and shards of metal in his hair and his beard. He grabbed me and pulled me away as people started getting up and running in random directions, heedless of who they trampled and ran into.

He pulled me over to the news van and shielded me from all the people rushing around.

I could see his lips moving but I couldn't hear him. I held up my hands and shook my head, telling (or yelling) at him that he needed to speak louder.

"-right?" I heard him say. I assumed he was asking me if I was all right. I nodded and then pointed at his chest. He nodded. He was fine, too.

His mouth was moving again.

"-o". Was all I got out of that one.

"Go?" I asked. He nodded, then grabbed my arm and dragged me away from the crowd. We hadn't gotten far away from the news van David had arrived in when a distant pounding intruded on my hearing and suddenly Oz grabbed me and all but threw me on the ground while he climbed on top of me.

The haziness in my hearing was starting to fade, and the pounding was getting louder.

Some functional part of my brain recognized it: Gunshots.

I panicked, squirming under Oz.

"Get off!" I screamed at him, apparently sounding panicky enough for him to roll off of me, but he kept a hand on my shoulder.

It was total chaos.

The people had no idea where to run, and I understood why now: the gunshots were coming from everywhere, and I saw men running at us from all directions, it seemed.

"Gotta go." Oz said, hauling me to my feet and dragging me in the opposite direction, only to stop short. There was a team of three men, all armed, coming from that way, too.

I backed away, panic rising.

What on earth was happening? Who were they? What did they want?

I looked around for somewhere, anywhere, to escape to. The only avenue not blocked off was the way back inside city hall, but we'd have to get through the panicked crowd to get through to it. Then I spotted something that almost made me laugh: David Berenger, filming the whole thing.

There was nowhere to run to.

Oz looked at me, and I knew what he was thinking.

Adrenaline kicked in, fight or flight happening all at once as the gunmen continued firing into and around the crowd, blindly. I heard people cry out in pain as they were hit.

It was too much, too overwhelming.

One of the gunmen was making his way towards the podium. None of them wore masks, which I thought was strange. They all wore red jackets, but other than that, there was nothing that unified them beyond that crazed, determined look they had on their faces.

Another man was heading into the crowd, while the others all moved into position surrounding the crowd.

"Do something." Oz growled at me.

"I don't know what to do." I answered, "I don't even know how to start, I've never fought with It, not really."

"Just use It." He answered.

He didn't wait for me to protest, he pushed me towards the crowd, not far enough so they could see us by the van, but far enough to where I could see them.

I thought back to the night this had all started, the night I'd killed a man. What I'd done, could I repeat in on a big scale?

I took a deep breath, my heart going ninety miles an hour as the first gunman mounted the platform, pistol-whipped Newman, and grabbed the microphone. Before he could speak a word, Nolan launched himself at him, taking everyone by surprise.

"Nolan get down!" David shrieked at him, dropping the camera he'd wrestled from his cameraman and rushing the platform.

Another gunman fired at him. David jerked to the side, blood spraying from a wound in his side, he grabbed at it and went down.

The man on the platform turned his attention to Nolan, his gun trained on him.

Something in me snapped, then. (I know, you're thinking 'About time' right? Lay off, I was scared out of my mind)

I stepped out of my hiding place and raised my hand. My hand was practically glowing white as I fired at the man on the platform. The blast slammed into his arm so hard it spun him completely around and sent the gun flying from his grip.

The other gunmen immediately spun and pointed their guns at me.

All eight of them.

'Oh crap.' Was my eloquent thought.


	5. Chapter 4: I Have No Idea How to Do Crap

For a painfully long moment, nothing happened. Or, if something was happening then my brain didn't recognize it, it was too busy screaming in panic.

Eight pairs of eyes locked onto me, and I swear I could feel each and every pair. I didn't know where to look, so I just stared straight ahead, like a deer in headlights. I didn't realize that sound was slowly coming back to me, and I managed to hear a faint but incredibly threatening: _click_

My eyes swiveled to the right, and saw one of the gunmen, his eyes wide with surprise, thumb back the hammer on his gun, the one next to him was already lifting his gun, too. It was a pretty fair bet the ones on the left of me were doing the same.

One thing I learned that day (and let's be fair I was about to learn a lot) was that in really r_eally_ stressful situations, my mind reverts to that of a ten-year-old's.

I was about to be riddled with bullets, and all I could think was: Gosh, I'm tired. Where can I nap?

Yeah, I think my mind broke right then.

Anyway, thank God some semblance of self-preservation remained intact because at about the time I realized that things were not, in fact, moving in slow motion, the smart gunman who'd raised his gun already realized that I was scared out of my mind.

About .5 seconds before he fired, I closed my eyes and felt myself just…go.

Look, it's a weird feeling to describe, and I've had it explained to me what must happen when I do the whole teleporting thing, but it just freaks me out. Essentially, my body just…well, it dissipates. It dissipates and somehow my mind tells it to reform at a certain place in a fraction of a second.

I don't know how. I don't do science, I leave that to the professionals, so we'll just shrug and say 'Conduit' and keep going, okay?

So that's what I did.

I had to move out of the way, so I moved. I heard the shot as the gun went off, and it may have even gone through 'me' as I was…huh. I was going to call it 'misting' but that just sounds weird so we'll stick with teleporting.

I reformed about six feet behind the guy who'd shot at me, and needless to say everyone looked confused. I used that to my advantage. I lifted both hands and tried to pretend I was John Marston for a minute. I lined up the three gunmen closest to me and raised both hands, watching the left one begin to surge with that vibrant blue, and the right glow white again.

I started peppering them with blasts of water and air. It was more of a distraction than harmful attack, but I realized that having scared, angry guys with guns firing wildly around a crowd wasn't a good idea. I needed to get them away from the people, and then I could focus on taking them out.

Like I knew how I was going to do that.

"Hey!" I shouted, just in case their buddies being hit with huge balls of water and more or less punched with pockets of air didn't get the rest of the gunmen's attention.

"Got a problem with Conduits? Come and get one!"

I probably sounded a lot cooler in my head. My voice was too high to sound threatening and shaking too much to sound confident at all, but it got the job done.

The ones nearest me spun, and the ones who were on the opposite side of the crowd began running towards me, shouting orders at each other in a jumbled mess that struck me as sounding extraordinarily disorganized for a group of hitmen.

I gathered up my will, both hands glowing white now and swirling with energy, and I blasted it at the first group of gunmen before they had enough time to aim.

The blast knocked most of them off their feet, and the ones who stayed upright couldn't resist the force of it and stumbled backwards, losing their grips on their guns. One even lost his.

Before they had time to reorganize, I teleported again, onto the street this time.

I was far enough away to ensure that it would take a few seconds for them to even get close enough to be considered a threat, and that's when I realized I had no idea what to do next.

How long could I keep them running? When would they start to figure out that I had no idea what I was doing? And how long would it be before I started getting tired? I was already pretty winded and jittery as crap.

I wasn't a fighter. I was a hider.

And now I had eight guys with guns, more or less, coming right after me and no idea what to do about it.

Was I supposed to scare them off?

I knew of a way how, but…I didn't want to revert to that, not yet.

My thinking session was interrupted when the men charged closer, and they had spread out in a haphazard line, not a tight group, like I'd expected them to. Another odd thing for professional hitmen to do.

Unless this wasn't a professional group.

And how would I know how professional hitmen behave? Watch a movie or two and suddenly I'm an expert.

It was almost like they were making themselves easy targets, they just didn't know it.

I raised a hand and blasted a sharp jet of water at one guy on the end who thought it was a smart idea to try firing a gun while running. I don't care how good your aim is, it's hard to fire accurately at a full on sprint. If anything I was just hitting him because he was acting like an idiot.

I turned and started running up the street, keeping the Red guys in my peripheral vision. They altered course to follow me, but some began to slow down and hold their guns the way they should: one hand supporting the hand holding the gun, and they started coming to a halt, legs planted.

They were going to fire.

I looked back, and while they were still more or less in a line, they were still closer together than they had been, if not exactly in a group.

An idea occurred to me. An absurd one, but, hey, that's all I'd had so far since Oz in his wisdom decided I needed to play hero.

I ran a few more feet, then abruptly halted, spun and lifted both hands. A huge wave of water burst from both of them with enough force to make me have to plant a foot behind me to keep from falling over.

It took a lot of concentration, but I lifted the wave up and pushed it further out. I saw the gunmen look up, and more than a few went completely pale and started to take a few steps back. I hands shook with the effort to suspend the water for so long, but I just needed a few more seconds.

I took a breath to push away the pounding pressure in my head, and then swapped all the power to my left hand. I wrenched my left hand down, and as the wave came crashing down, I raised my right and concentrated on the air above the force of the wave.

I slammed my right hand down, and the air behind the wave brought it down with at least twice as much force as the wave itself. The force of the water slamming down on the gunmen was too much. I heard them give shouts of pain and shock as the water beat them down.

They collapsed under the sheer weight of it, and I could tell at least two weren't going to get up for a bit.

I didn't have long to celebrate.

The energy that move had required and the sheer concentration and stress of it all was too much for me. I wasn't used to feeling this much fear, this much adrenaline, or this tired.

It had taken a lot out of me.

I felt myself literally sagging. It hurt to think or move too quickly. I was just so bloody tired.

There was this annoying throbbing in my head, and I tasted copper from where I'd unknowingly bitten my lip; my hands were shaking, my legs trembling, my breathing ragged. And some of the Reds were getting back up again.

I teleported further up the street, but when I stopped I bent over, hacking my lungs out.

I'd never used my powers this much, ever. It was too much.

I coughed so hard I heard myself wheezing, and wheezing is not just the funny sound your dog makes when he snores, it's a terrifying sound when it's happening to you and you feel the swelling in your face and in your neck from the sheer lack of oxygen and you realize that you literally cannot breathe.

Panic and fear shot through me as I forced myself to keep walking.

A shot rang out and I jumped, flinching away from the bullet as it crashed into the ground about three feet from me. It was a low shot, which meant someone had shot while still lying down.

Another shot rang out, closer to me this time and I tried to run, to teleport, but I was choking so hard I was afraid I was either going to pass out or throw up. Or both.

I managed to take one last deep breath, ready to turn around and try to take out at least the guy who was shooting at me. As I took that breath, I happened to look up, and saw someone sprinting towards me. For a moment I panicked that it was one of the Reds, but that couldn't be true because he was wearing a black hoodie.

He raised a hand, and I remember thinking it was a weird time for anyone to be waving.

He wasn't waving.

Metal shards protruded out of his hand.

"Down!" he shouted at me.

'Oh thank God.' I thought, obediently collapsing onto the pavement.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the person (a man as it turned out, or boy, however you want to call him) blast a stream of metal shards at my attackers. He gave a shout of triumph as his blast apparently hit home.

Okay, to call it a shout of triumph is to make it sound poetic. If you want an exact quote, what he shouted was: "YEAH! Eat it, pussies!" He ran right past me, throwing blasts of metal from both hands. I started to twist to watch him go, but I was just too darn tired.

I just wanted to be left alone. I just wanted to breathe for a minute and remember what it felt like to actually be able to breathe, but alas, it was not to be. For long, anyway.

After Metal guy ran right past me, I was alone for all of maybe two seconds before I heard something slam into the pavement ahead of me and I forced myself to raise my head a fraction of an inch and see if Superman had decided to make an appearance, too.

Close enough, I guess.

A pair of converse-clad feet started towards me.

"Ethan!" the owner of the feet shouted, "Wait a second, you idiot!"

"I'll have it done in that much time!" Metal guy, Ethan, answered back.

Converse-feet mumbled something to himself that may or may not have been "Damn hothead."

Then Converse-feet noticed I was pretty much curled up on the ground and the feet ran towards me. I groaned and lowered my head, which I probably shouldn't have done because Converse-feet immediately assumed I was hurt.

"Hey, hey, take it easy," he said soothingly, kneeling down beside me.

"Just leave me alone." I begged, trying to roll away from him. The Reds were being taken care of, which meant I'd more or less done as Oz told me too, so I could rest now if only people would leave me alone for five seconds.

I get cranky when I'm tired, man.

"It's okay," Converse-feet said, "it's okay, we gotcha. You hurt?"

I sighed and shook my head, but winced from how the throbbing intensified from the motion.

"Nice work back there," he complimented me, "only got to see the last bit, but that was a pretty cool trick. Did you plan that?"

I almost laughed at him. Instead, I managed a squeak that would have to be interpreted as laughter.

"Didn't think so." Converse-feet said, not quite managing to hide that chuckle in his voice. "Can you stand? You need me to pick you up or something?"

I closed my eyes and raised a finger warningly.

"No touchy."

That time he did laugh. It was a nice laugh, but a bit too loud for my poor, aching head.

"Come on," he insisted, prodding my shoulder, "we can't stay here for long. We got backup coming but we should clear the area after we help Ethan."  
"Oz!" I remembered aloud, sitting upright.

I'd left Oz back there. What if he was looking for me? What if he was thinking he'd sent me to my death? What if he'd gotten hurt? What if Ethan had chased them back into the crowd, back to Oz?

"No, we're in Seattle." Converse-feet said gently.

I looked at him, really looked at him, and I think my stomach nearly dropped to my feet.

There he was, beanie, vest, cheeky smirk and all: the Savior of Seattle.

And then I barfed all over his shoes.


	6. Chapter 5: Meeting the Gang, Sort Of

Needless to say, barfing on someone's shoes is a really awkward introduction, especially if the person you're puking all over just happens to be a super-powered hero who more or less came to save the day.

In my defense, I had been through quite a lot of stress, and this was just an added surprise that I couldn't handle in the moment. I just didn't know snapping under stress meant puking my guts out…on the Savior of Seattle.

There was an awkward silence after I finished heaving. I was too mortified to look up, so I just kind of sat there with my head between my knees, wondering if I should try and wipe his shoes off. But that thought made me want to be sick again, as did looking at the puke, so I closed my eyes.

"Uh…" Delsin said after a long moment, "so…come here often?"

Again, there was that tremor of laughter in his voice and I didn't know if I should be relieved or even more embarrassed. I couldn't blame him for laughing at me, but at the same time I wanted him to understand why I had.

I'm very bad at explaining things while disoriented, apparently.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" I started babbling, looking up at him as I tried to wipe off drool from my face as non-grossly as I could. "I just-you know, the Reds-then you- then Metal dude-then choking-and guns-and…" I broke off, suddenly aware none of that had even sounded remotely intelligible.

"Sorry." I finished.

Delsin was obviously trying not to laugh, not altogether successfully. His lips were doing that weird trembling thing they do whenever you're trying not to smile, and it comes out as a really weird looking frown, only shaky. That did nothing to hide the mirth in his eyes.

"It's okay, kid," he assured me, "don't sweat it. You've been through a lot, it's cool. Everyone has to have…some kind of release." His voice rose into a higher-pitched, giggling squeak on the last word and I couldn't help but kind of chuckle at it, though it was more in my chest than audible.

He burst into a laugh, then, rising gingerly to his feet and offering a hand to me.

I took it, and he eased me up slowly, which was smart since I was still dizzy and felt wobbly just standing there.

Delsin shook his feet off, tapping the toe of his shoes against the ground to knock the grossest bits off. I couldn't help but mourn the loss of those donuts. Man they had been good.

The thought of donuts brought me back to the matter at hand.

"Oz." I repeated to myself, smacking a hand against my forehead. I turned back the way I had come and started half-jogging, half-staggering back to the crowd. I could hear shouts, frightened yells, and laughter. I assumed that was Metal-dude. Or, Ethan. Whatever his name was.

"Hold on a second, Dorothy," Delsin said, trotting up to me and halting me with a hand on my arm. "We still need to get the rest of the crew together. Toto just ran ahead, we're still waiting on the Tin-Woman and the Cowardly Lion."

I stared at him blankly. Then I got it.

"I'm not talking about _that_ Oz." I said, exasperated and yanked free of his hand, "Oz is my friend. He stayed back there with the crowd, I need to know if he's okay."

Delsin frowned and looked towards the City Hall. I could see his jaw working as he thought the situation over, and the glanced down at my doubtfully. I knew he was worried about my stability right now, but the last thing I needed was someone holding me back right now. I wasn't going to be doing any fighting, I just wanted to make sure Oz was all right.

"I have to find him." I said, a bit more forcefully.

"Okay, okay." he said with a sigh, "Can you keep up?" He started jogging backwards, and I looked as determined as I could and matched the speed, and totally managed to do it without stumbling or weaving. Not a bit.

True story.

It didn't take us long to get back to City Hall, and there was no sign of Ethan or the Reds, and people were just beginning to scatter, while others lingered, unsure of if they should stay and try to help, or run and try to pretend it never happened.

I scanned the crowd, looking for my bearded friend towards the back, but I didn't see him. I felt a stab of fear, wondering if he'd left me, expecting me to find him again later, or maybe he had been hurt?

"See him?" Delsin asked. I shook my head, biting my lip.

"What's he look like?" he asked, already looking even though he didn't know who he was looking for.

"Big guy, beard, looks homeless." I said. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Delsin lift an eyebrow and give me another once-over. I think he was just now registering that I looked pretty homeless myself. None of my clothes really fit well anymore. Everything was too big, and blue though my hair may be, it wasn't exactly brilliantly clean. The same could be said for my face, I guess.

Not that it's blue just that it's…you get me.

As I scanned the crowd, I did see David Berenger and his friend Nolan. Nolan had come down off the platform, and was kneeling beside David, hands pressed into his friend's bleeding side. Crap, I'd forgotten about them.

I mean, I didn't know them, but I felt like I had to help. No idea how was I was supposed to do that, but I had to try, anyway. Oz would want me to.

"They need help." I said, pointing at David and Nolan. David looked…r_eally_ pale, like…vampire-pale. And even from here it looked like he was panting, and his eyes looked black and _huge_. I didn't know a lot about medical crap, but to me it looked like he was going into shock.

Apparently Delsin thought the same thing because we both started shoving our way through the confused crowd as fast as we could, while I took my backpack off, hung it on one arm and stripped my hoodie off.

"Come on, back up!" Delsin was shouting, "Everyone just calm down, you're okay, the danger's past." I saw him glance around though, as if wondering where exactly the danger was, now that it was past.

That was a good question, but for now I was just glad that they were gone.

"How's he doing?" Delsin asked once we got to where Nolan was still hunched over David. There was no doubt about it, David was definitely in shock, he was shaking and everything, and he just stared at nothing, like he wasn't sure he was seeing any of this.

"Not good," Nolan answered, not looking up. I shoved my hoodie at him and he nodded his thanks, taking it without looking at me as he wrapped it around his friend as best he could.

I mean, it was like two sizes too small for him but it still had some of my body-heat in it so it couldn't hurt.

"Has anyone called 911?" Delsin asked. Nolan shrugged.

"Probably, I don't know." He answered.

"Hey!" Delsin shouted, making both me and Nolan look at him, he was pointing at some random person on his cell-phone.

"You'd better be talking to a 911 dispatcher." He said, the guy on his phone blanched, recognizing Delsin, no doubt.

"I-It's my girlfriend." He answered.

"Is she a dispatcher?" Delsin asked, in a tone you'd use when trying to explain something really simple to a really stupid kid. The man shook his head feebly.

"Then tell her you're fine and will call her back, and call 911." Delsin said. The guy nodded, murmured something into his phone, then hung up on his girlfriend and started dialing 911 with shaky hands.

Delsin sighed and looked down at Nolan and David. David blinked like a sleepy kitten and his head rolled.

"Woah, woah," I said, leaning down and tapping his cheek, "I know you're tired, but you gotta stay awake until an ambulance gets here, okay?" His eyes rolled as he tried to focus on me, his eyelids fluttering like they weighed a ton. I knew the feeling.

I got on the other side of Nolan and used my backpack to pillow David's head.

"God knows I want a nap, too," I told him, tapping his face again, "but that's for later."

Now Nolan was staring at me, too.

Oh, right, he knew I was a Conduit, now.

Crap.

"Uh, hi?" I said, avoiding his staring eyes.

"Y-You're-" he started, then looked up at Delsin and the poor guy turned almost as white as David.

"And y_ou're_-" he squeaked, and Delsin waved a hand in dismissal.

"Yeah, I know," he said, "fancy title, powers, yadda yadda, not important right now." He frowned and looked around, "Where the hell is everyone?"

I frowned in confusion. As far as I could tell, everyone was still here, except Oz.

I'd spoken-or thought-too soon since Oz came barreling through the crowd and grabbed hold of me and swung me up and even gave a little spin to his embrace. He was lucky I didn't puke all over him too. Instead I guess I turned kind of green because he stopped spinning and instead focused on giving me a bone-crushing squeeze.

"Oz," I gasped, "Oz, can't control air when I can't breathe."

"Sorry." He muttered, blushing under all that hair and putting me back down on the ground. Once I could feel my arms again, I returned the hug, feeling…well, I felt like a little kid. And I may or may not have gotten a little choked up.

Yeah, I know, want some crackers with that cheese? It's true though, I felt safe with Oz, even though he wasn't a hugger, at all. It felt like a massive security blanket draped over me. I just wanted to stay there, burrowed into his chest and forget all about crazy guys with guns and people with powers and puking all over the Savior of Seattle's shoes.

"Oz, I take it?" Delsin broke in. Oz pulled away from a little and I looked up to see him looking Delsin over. If he recognized him (and I'm sure he did) he didn't show it. He just gave a grunt that was neither a confirmation or a denial.

That's my Oz.

"I met your Dorothy," he said, motioning to me, "quite a girl you've got." I wasn't sure what he was implying there, and I didn't really like the way Delsin was giving him the stink-eye. Not that Oz wasn't used to it, but I get a little riled when people get judgmental at his appearance.

"My name's Charlie," I snapped at him, taking him by surprise. "And Oz is my best friend."

Delsin's face softened, realizing his error.

"Okay, gotcha." He nodded, then offered a hand to Oz, "I'm Delsin."

Oz eyed his hand for a moment, then, much to my surprise, looked at me.

"He's cool." I said, relenting a little in my anger. Oz grunted again, then grabbed Delsin's hand, gave it a firm, single shake, then released it and looked down at David and Nolan. Nolan, bless him, looked bewildered and scared out of his mind, and had completely forgotten David.

David had his eyes shut, and his lips were only slightly open. For a second I thought he was dead and started to squat beside him, but Oz beat me to it. Like me, he stripped off his coat and draped it over David and gave him a none-too-gently slap on the face.

David gave a gasp and opened his eyes, which looked clearer than they had a second ago. His face contorted in pain and he gave a strange groan that was a gurgle at the same time. Oz frowned and slapped Nolan's hands away. He gave the wound a once-over, then gave a quiet, worried humph.

"Needs a hospital," he said, looking up, "gut wound, bleeding might be worse inside, can't tell. Not good."

Delsin nodded and motioned towards the man who was now once again talking to his girlfriend on his cell-phone.

"An ambulance is coming," he said, "hospital isn't too far away-"

Oz shook his head.

"Now." He repeated. He fixed Delsin with this really quiet, but meaningful look. I understood what that meant, and I felt my heart sink and turn cold, while Delsin nodded.

Delsin turned away and reached up to a pocket on the front of his vest, fishing out a small hand-held radio. He started to speak into it when he glanced up at something, a grin breaking out on his face. I followed his gaze and looked up.

You know, all things considered, I suppose weirder things could have happened, and it's not like I wasn't used to seeing weird stuff from Conduits; concrete, smoke, metal, but seeing a giant Angel swooping down out of the sky was definitely not something I'd expected to see today.

"Eugene!" Delsin shouted, trotting towards the Angel as it made its decent, ignoring the people who had been lingering, undecided, and who were now bolting away at the sight of a frikkin' ANGEL. Heck if I could have I might have joined them.

"I am He Who Dwells!" the Angel bellowed impressively, beatings its wings in what I assume was a majestic manner, though it was a bit annoying since it created a massive wind that was beating against the crowd.

"Yeah, whatever," Delsin answered, then pointed back at David, "listen, you're going to be that guy's guardian angel today, okay?"

"Who is this man?" The Angel demanded.

"A friend to the Conduits," Delsin answered, "but more importantly he's a man who's gravely injured. He's got internal bleeding and he's already lost a lot of blood. The ambulance won't get here in time, I need you to fly him in. I'll call ahead and tell them to meet you on the roof." He looked back at the guy with the cell-phone as he said this.

The poor guy, he sighed defeatedly, said goodbye to his girlfriend, who didn't sound at all happy, and started dialing the hospital, stoically ignoring the fact an Angel was hovering just a few feet away.

The Angel gave a nod.

"I will help this man." He boomed.

"No kiddin'?" Delsin said, "All right, hurry up."

The Angel flapped his wings harder, gaining altitude and swept toward us.

"Step back, mortals!" he commanded, though we had already backed away just because of the force of the wind. Poor David flinched at the noise and groaned, his hair billowing around his head like a dark cloud against his pasty white skin.

"Hey!" I shouted at him, "You mind turning the volume down? The guy's got enough problems as it is!" The Angel looked at me with bright, glowing eyes, and I felt like he wanted to rebuke me, instead, he grumbled (or rumbled, it literally shook the ground), and then landed.

He bent over David and gingerly scooped him up like a baby. David winced and closed his eyes. I don't know what he was thinking but what you want to bet he thought he was hallucinating everything? It was going to be fun to tell him that it had all been real.

The Angel looked down at the man in his arms. David looked…really small. Not just because the Angel was massive, which was also true, but because he was so drawn up in pain and covered in mismatched coats he just…I don't know how to explain it, he just looked like a little lost thing.

"Courage, human," the Angel said, not boomed, this time, he actually spoke in a quiet tone, "you will receive your aid."

Then he gave a huge flap of his wings that made poor Nolan nearly fall over until Oz caught him, and the Angel launched himself into the air, clutching David to him like a child. In a moment he was gone, heading towards the hospital.

I looked at Oz, he looked at me, and raised an eyebrow. For Oz, he was practically screaming.

"Don't look at me," I said, lifting my hand in defense, "I just spray people with water or blow some air in their face. Angel's new to me, too."

"That's Eugene," Delsin said, coming back to join us, "He's not a bad kid when he's not being He Who is a Dick."

"He's a kid?" I asked in surprise. Delsin nodded.

"Yeah, not too much older than you, I think." He tilted his head. "How old are you, anyway?"

"Sixteen." I shrugged. He frowned, nodded thoughtfully, and then looked back to the crowd.

"Is anyone else hurt?" he asked Nolan, who was still trying to regain his composure.

"I think one guy got nicked by a bullet," he said, his voice trembling still, poor guy, "but he took off after the gunmen went after her." He nodded at me, and a ghost of a smile played around his thin, pallid lips.

"Thanks, by the way," he said, "you saved lives today."

I shrugged and looked at Oz.

"I'm not the one to thank." I answered. Oz very obviously ignored me. Nolan continued to look like a little lost puppy. He looked between us, and sighed, giving up on even trying to understand what was going on anymore.

"Well, thank you all the same." He said. I shrugged again. I really didn't feel as though I'd accomplished all that much, after seeing David like that. I hadn't stopped him from getting shot, I hadn't saved everyone. If he died…

Oz seemed to know what I was thinking and bumped my elbow with his.

"You did good, kid." Delsin said, speaking for him, or just speaking for himself, I was never sure. "It could have been a lot worse. We were late getting here, you at least bought us some time."

"And you did save my life." Nolan reminded me. That's right, I had blasted the guy who'd been about to shoot him. Well, now I got the warm fuzzies.

"Hmph." Oz said, very loudly. I immediately whirled, right hand swirling with blue energy, ready to hit a straggler if he had come back to wreak more havoc. It wasn't a gunman that Oz had seen, however, it was a neon-purple streak that was moving for us at top-speed.

"Easy, Holliday," Delsin joked, putting a hand on my shoulder, "it's a friendly."

I lowered my hand, "I'm your huckleberry." I answered. He gave chuckle and went to meet the purple streak, which halted right before running into him, revealing itself to be a very attractive woman with purple hair and an awesome military-style jacket that I immediately wanted.

"Where are they?" The woman asked, Delsin sighed in exasperation.

"Ethan ran off again," he answered as they began marching past the crowd and in the direction where Ethan had presumably disappeared to. The woman made an exasperated noise as well and Delsin nodded in understanding.

I felt like I should be involved, so I followed them, and in turn, Oz and Nolan followed me.

"He's _got_ to stop doing that," the woman was saying, "You've got to tell him that he's got to stick with the rest of the group and listen to instructions."

"I have, Fetch!" Delsin countered, "He won't listen unless I get angry, and then he just gets upset and runs off anyway."

"Then I'll talk to him." The woman, Fetch, answered.

"Yeah, cause that went just swimmingly last time, right?"

Fetch fake-punched him in the arm.

"Not to interrupt," I said, doing just that, "but, this Ethan guy did kind of save my ass. He may have disobeyed orders or something by running off immediately afterward, but he did save me. Just saying."

Fetch lifted an eyebrow at me and then looked at Delsin.

"She's a Conduit," Delsin said, "she provided a distraction for the gunmen, saved people. She's cool."

Fetch nodded, her shoulders relaxing slightly. I got the feeling she didn't like being contradicted by people. Especially strangers. We had that in common at least.

"Nice jacket." I added. She smiled.

"Thanks."

"Oh," Delsin said, "I haven't introduced you guys. Uh, Fetch, this is…uh, Charlie?" I nodded. I had a feeling he'd almost called me 'Dorothy' again. I offered my hand and she shook it, some warmth coming into her eyes.

"And this is Oz," I said, motioning to him behind me, "and…Nolan." I didn't know if it was proper etiquette to introduce someone who technically you didn't even know, but, screw it, now was not the time to worry about that kind of crap.

"So what's the plan?" I asked. Delsin looked at Fetch.

"I guess we need to look for Ethan," she said in unison with Delsin, they both smiled, faint blushes on their cheeks. Ah, puppy love. Adorable.

"We'll take to the rooftops." Delsin added, already moving up the street, "You coming? Or do you need to rest some more?"

I hesitated. As far as I was concerned, my part in this was over. I felt better, sure. At least I didn't feel as dizzy or pukey anymore, but I was still pretty tired. I looked at Nolan, who looked…hopeful? Weird. And Oz looked…well, I wasn't sure how to read that look.

"What do you think?" I asked him.

Oz grunted, sighed, and rubbed at his beard.

"He saved you?" He asked quietly.

"He kept me from getting capped, at least." I answered. He nodded slowly.

"Owe him a favor." Oz said. I knew what that meant, it meant that he had done me a kindness, and I needed to repay it in kind.

"Okay." I said to him, and to Delsin and Fetch.

"I'm coming."

Man I was going to sleep so hard tonight.


	7. Chapter 6: New Crap and Battle Plans

We ran for about two blocks before Delsin gave a nod to Fetch. She grinned, and then took off at lightning-speed again. Or…I guess neon-speed. I watched her zip straight up the side of the building ahead of us while Delsin moved for a vent that was lower down.

"Come on," he called over his shoulder, "we gotta get a bird's-eye view if we're going to find him."

"How am I supposed to get up there?" I asked, coming to a halt, winded. I wasn't using to running this much and I had a stitch in my side that hurt way worse than I'd expected it to.

Delsin quirked an eyebrow and pointed at the vent. I just stared at it, then looked at him in confusion.

"You can evaporate, right?" he asked, "I saw you blinking around on the street when we first arrived."

"I guess, yeah." I answered. He nodded and pointed at the vent again.

"Then evaporate next to this thing and let the vent carry you up to the roof. It's how I get around when I'm using my smoke crap."

I swallowed, not liking this idea at all. I mean, it's one thing to teleport around, it's another thing to let your body dissipate and get sucked up some pipes. What if I freaked out and lost concentration and turned solid in the pipes? What if I got stuck? Or what if I couldn't reassemble myself once I got out?

"You're overthinking it." Delsin said, putting a hand on my shoulder.

"You a mind-reader, too?" I asked.

"Nah," he said, "just been new to this whole thing before." He tilted his head, "Of course, the first time I went through a vent I didn't really have to think about it, it just kind of happened, so it was a little easier for me." He smiled and gave me a reassuring punch in the shoulder, "Just take it easy and go along for the ride. Don't try to do anything, let the vent do all the work."

He stepped next to the vent and flashed me that grin again.

"See ya topside." He said, giving a little two-finger salute. Then he turned into a puff of smoke that immediately got sucked up the vent.

I approached the vent like it was a snake about ready to bite me.

I'm claustrophobic, so I was already having all these horrific thoughts of getting stuck in those pipes, getting crushed, unable to slide further in or further out.

Cringing the whole time, I took a breath (just in case) and then just let go.

To say it was a weird feeling is putting it mildly. It felt like I was traveling at light-speed. There was a second of darkness, a roaring sound in my head, and then suddenly I felt myself launched up and into the light.

When I opened my eyes, I was solid again, and standing on the roof of the building next to Delsin. I guess I must have looked a little green, and I nearly puked again, but Delsin patted me on the back soothingly.

"You did it!" he pointed out.

"You don't say?" I retorted. I shuddered, swallowing to keep down what little of my breakfast remained.

"It'll be okay in a minute," he said, "I guess the first time is always the hardest. Stick with me and it'll be an old trick in no time." He grinned, "You still got a lot to learn, it looks like." I didn't comment, and really I didn't have time to even if I'd wanted to because Fetch came zipping up to us again.

She pointed back over her shoulder.

"I think I got him." She said, "He's got himself pinned down, though. He's not hurt, at least not as far as I could tell but he could use a little help."

Delsin nodded, turning serious again. He glanced down at me.

"Can you blink to keep up?" he asked. I nodded a little uncertainly, glancing over the edge of the building. God but we were high up. Like, really high up. And I had a feeling they were going to want to start jumping the rooftops.

Oh, joy.

"Cheer up, kid," Fetch said, tousling my hair, "good thing about being a Conduit is if you fall, your knees don't shatter. Just remember to land on your feet."

"Gee I feel better already." I muttered. Fetch just laughed, and zipped away again. Dang but I wanted that power. How easy would it be to run away if you could move a hundred miles an hour? I stood gazing after her in what I suppose was a wistful manner. Delsin snapped me out of it.

"We gotta move." He said, starting for the edge of the building. He measured the jump between this building and the next one, which was slightly lower down.

He hummed quietly to himself and glanced at me.

"Hey," he said, "you control air, right?"

I shrugged.

"Not sure I can actually control it just yet, but I use it," I answered, "why?" He frowned thoughtfully, thinking about something.

"This isn't really the best time to be testing theories," he said, "but I was wondering if you could fly. Or hover, or something." He smirked. "Like this." He put his hands out to his sides and pointed his palms down. His arms started to swirl black and red and then exploded into bright orange flame as he lifted himself into the air.

I backed away from the heat and watched him. He hovered for a second, moving his arms to keep his balance. Then he landed, extinguishing his power. I frowned uncertainly.

"Can you try that?" he asked. I bit my lip.

"Guess I'll find out." I answered.

"Good girl."

I rolled my eyes and mimicked the stance he had done before, arms out, palms down. I felt the power surge through me and I channeled it into my arms and down exclusively to my hands. There was a burst of white energy as I felt myself lift up off the ground.

There was a momentary panic as I wobbled precariously, trying to figure out how to hold my legs (I may or may not have curled them into my chest) and at the same time trying to keep my hands pointed down and not out.

"Here, do this." Delsin grabbed my legs as I hovered about five feet in the air. He yanked them down and spread them about a foot apart, and then let them curl up ever-so slightly before stopping them.

"Keep them right there," he said, "you'll get the hang of it soon."

I dropped back to the roof and took a shaky breath.

"You do realize I've hardly ever used this stuff before today?" I told him. Delsin widened his eyes in mock-shock and did an over-the-top gasp.

"You don't mean it?" he squeaked, "Surely you're just being modest, clearly you're a master of the elements! Don't hold back!" He grabbed my shoulders and shook them dramatically. I pushed him off, trying not to giggle at just how stupid this whole situation was.

"You always this much of a smart-ass?" I asked him.

"I'm gonna say 'no' but I'm kind of the minority of that opinion."

I repeated the surprised look he'd given me a few seconds ago.

"You don't mean it?" I squeaked back at him. He laughed, shaking his head.

"Okay, okay, time's-a-wastin'." He said, sprinting for the edge of the building. He leapt off of it, then blasted flames from his hands to give him a boost that let him land safely on the lower roof.

I took another deep breath, and then ran for the edge of the building. As soon as my feet left the roof, that part of my brain started shrieking again in pure terror. Conduit or no, gravity affects you the same way and there's always going to be a part of you that knows it's just downright stupid to jump off of a building.

'Oh crap oh crap oh crap oh crap.' I thought in a rapid loop, since I was too terrified to actually manage words. I put my hands behind me and gave myself a boost. It was a bit too much of a boost, actually, since, you know, you don't really react calmly in moments of intense panic.

The blast sent me hurtling forward…completely over the roof I was aiming for and on to the next one, which was higher up. I won't repeat what was going through my head because I was taught better than that, dang it.

Anyway, I managed to point my hands straight down and give a more measured burst of energy that lifted me up. Then I slowly angled my hands to push me forward.

You know, after the initial 'I'VE MADE A TERRIBLE MISTAKE' thought, it wasn't that bad. I'm not going to say I was a natural, because I wasn't. But..dang, it felt cool. I was freakin' FLYING.

When I caught up to Delsin and Fetch, I totally acted calm and collected and not like a jabbering idiot again.

Yeah, that's not true.

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygod." I prattled, grabbing Delsin's shoulder and practically rocking him back and forth.

"Did you see that?" I demanded. "Did you see that crap?" I grinned and shook him harder.

He disentangled himself from me and grinned at my enthusiasm. Fetch was not trying very hard not to giggle.

"Ya did good, kid." Delsin said, then pointed down to the alley below us. "Now we gotta focus, though, okay?"

I blushed, embarrassed by how unprofessional I'd been.  
"Right, right, sorry. Crazy guys with guns, no time for fun, right." I nodded, taking a few quick breaths to calm down.

"So how we gonna do this?" Fetch asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet in anticipation while Delsin crossed his arms and scanned the battleground. If you could call it a battleground. I mean, it was a little intersection of a bunch of alleys, not exactly Bunker Hill.

Ethan was crouched behind a dumpster, while five of the Reds were popping shots off at him every once in a while. Just to keep him from popping out. Two were in the alley directly opposite him, their backs to us and three were in a side alley, talking quietly amongst each other. I had a feeling they were trying to decide whether or not to ditch their buddies and take off.

"They have no idea what they're doing." Delsin said. "Look at them," he pointed at their placement.

"They shouldn't have split up the group like that," he said, "they could lay down more fire with them all together. And they're bunched up together too much." He frowned and shook his head. "They don't have a plan."

"Which is good, right?" I asked. Fetch nodded in agreement. "I mean, if they don't have a plan, then they're disoriented so we could get the drop on them."

"I don't think it's that simple." Delsin said, "These guys aren't professional. They're a lot of noise with no brains-"

"Sounds like Ethan." Fetch muttered. Delsin tried not to, but I saw him smirk.

"- and they're scared." He finished, acting like she hadn't interrupted. "Which means if we do this wrong they're going to end up getting a lot more people hurt." He motioned to the sides of the alley. There were still cars passing on the road, and businesses on the opposite sides of the streets. With them concentrating fire on Ethan, they wouldn't get a shot off where other people were, but unless we played this right, Delsin had a point: people were going to get hurt.

"So we need to do what, exactly?" Fetch asked, "Want me to be a distraction? Lure them away?"

Delsin shook his head.

"It's too risky to move them anywhere. It looks like at least most pedestrians heard the shots and are steering clear of the sidewalks around here, but they might try to jump a car if they get panicky."

He groaned and rubbed a hand over his face.

"Ethan, I'm going to kill you." He muttered.

As if on cue, Ethan reached around from the dumpster and fired a blast of metal. It clipped one of the Reds as he was about to fire. The metal embedded itself deep in his forearm and he shrieked in agony as he fell back, pulling the trigger out of reflex.

I saw Ethan flick his hand and the bullet went wide of him.

No wonder he hadn't gotten shot yet.

The man who'd gotten hit with metal was screaming for his buddies to come help. They seem undecided.

"We need to keep them herded, then." I said, "Block off the escape routes and keep them focused here."

Delsin nodded slowly.

"I could blink around in there," I said, while a part of my brain screamed at me that I was being an idiot, "keep them distracted while you guys move in and start taking them out. If I need to, I can take cover behind that dumpster with your friend."

Fetch frowned uncertainly and looked at Delsin. He didn't look much pleased with the idea either.

"You could get shot, kid." He said.

"Yeah, I know," I said, trying to sound nonchalant but my dang voice didn't get the memo so it trembled a bit. "But, hey, I was getting shot at earlier anyway. Maybe I can get them to run out of bullets?"

Delsin still didn't look convinced but Fetch poked him in the shoulder.

"I know you don't like it," she said, "but it is the best plan we've got. And we gotta move fast." She grinned a little, "And I'll help distract, keep them confused while you move in for the takedown. Okay?"

She turned to me, then.

"I'll go in first," she said, "then I want you to start popping up behind them, do a little back-stabbing. Can you do that?"

"Sure." I said, even as my heart raced away.

She gave a last nod, and then turned into a neon blur again and raced over the side of the building. I glanced up at Delsin. He didn't look happy at all but he managed a reassuring smile.

"You can do it." He said, ruffling my hair, "Just be careful."

I thought this a rather ironic thing to say since I was about to jump off of a building and go fight guys with guns, but I didn't say that. Instead I winked at him like I knew what I was doing and he had nothing to worry about, and then stepped off the edge of the roof and somehow managed not to scream bloody murder, though I did gasp like I'd gotten hit with cold water.

Gravity is one mean mother, let me tell you. It just pulls you faster and faster and just sucks the air out of your lungs as you fall.

I know they told me my knees wouldn't shatter. But I decided now really wasn't the time to test that statement, so instead right before I hit the ground, I teleported a few feet ahead.

Interesting fact: when you teleport after falling from a huge height, the velocity you've built up on your descent actually carries over. So when I switched from falling straight down to (what I thought would be) walking straight ahead, apparently physics had a problem with the stunt I'd just pulled and added a fifty-mile an hour shove to my speed.

I yelped and tried to get my legs to cooperate as I suddenly found myself sprinting _past_ Fetch (yes I was moving that fast) and practically plowed right into the middle of the two gunmen.

The one who wasn't injured jumped up, gun ready in a very shaky hand while his buddy groaned "Not again."

"Uh-" I said, before Fetch interrupted by zipping up to him, and clocking him with an uppercut that lifted him off the ground. I swear I heard teeth shatter.

"Move it!" Fetch ordered, zipping away again.

I teleported ahead of her, and while she ran for the group of three, who had suddenly become aware of the new threat and were trying to figure out how to spread themselves out to start shooting again, I teleported again and appeared behind them.

The thing about being the backstabber in the party is you actually need to have a dagger of some sort. And I didn't.

'Well so much for that plan.' I thought. Well, if I couldn't be a rogue, then I'd be a mage.

I gathered up my power as Fetch made her rapid approach and when she stopped to strike, I sent a blast of air at the back of the first Red's head, so when Fetch's fist connected with his jaw, he had the force of a truck pushing his head into it.

Instant K.O.? Pretty much.

"Fatality!" I bellowed.

The other gunmen turned towards me, angry and startled. Never a good combo.

'Crap.' I thought, and blinked away to stand behind Fetch.

As it turns out, I needn't have bothered.

I thought a comet or something was dropping out of the sky. A huge fireball dropped right in the middle of them. They screamed in terror and pain, scrambling back from the figure emerging from the crater the fireball had left behind.

It was Delsin, of course, grinning, arms bright with flame and smoke.

"You almost stole all my fun, Fetch." He grinned, blasting one of the Reds in the chest with what looked like a smoke missile as he tried to aim his gun. It blasted the poor guy into a brick wall. After he slid down, he didn't try to get back up again.

"Had a little help, you know." Fetch answered. I blushed.

"That you did." Delsin answered as Fetch stepped on the wrist of the last Red as he finished beating out the flames on his red coat and tried to get up. He yelped, letting go of his gun and staring up in both fear and thinly veiled anger.

"Bit-" he started to snarl, but she interrupted him by stepping off his wrist and slamming a boot into his face. Blood spurted from his nose and he yelled some pretty choice words as he covered his hands with his face.

"Nice." I said, grinning. Fetch grinned back at me as Delsin laughed, stepping over the groveling man.

"'Bout time you guys showed up." A voice came from behind us. Right, Ethan.

He stepped around the corner of his hiding place, brushing off some rubble from his black hoodie and smoothing down the red flannel shirt he had on underneath.

He was older than I thought he was at first. At first glance he looked like a kid, but he was a bit taller, broader, and had more facial hair than a kid would have. He had thick blond hair that was a bit greasy from sweat and coated in dust, he had some killer cheekbones, _very_ blue eyes that were half-shut in an attempt to look laid back, and he had two curious scars right beneath his right eye. It looked like two puncture wounds, but they were a bit long to be puncture wounds.

So, yeah, he was pretty good looking, not going to lie. But at the same time there was this feeling about him that I didn't really like. He seemed the type that acted arrogant and rude because he thought it was cute.

I wasn't wrong.

"See you found a mutant Short-Round." He said, nodding to me with a lazy smirk and a playful glint in his eyes.

Right. My mom had been Korean and I'd gotten a few traits from her. And of course I had blue hair.

I clenched my jaw and lifted my head. This wasn't the first time I'd been called Short-Round but I wasn't going to get called a mutant by some dude who shot shards of metal out of his hands.

"Hey, idiot." Fetch greeted him. "You'd better thank her for helping save your worthless ass."

He grinned.

"Oh I doubt it's worthless." He drawled, "In fact I've gotten quite a few compliments on it." He winked at Fetch, "If you ever wanna see why, just ask."

Fetch gave a growl and stepped towards him and Delsin caught her arm.

"All right, all right." He said, "We didn't just save him so we can kill him again." He arched an eyebrow at Ethan, "But we are going to talk about this later, Ethan."

Ethan shrugged, looking bored.

"You're the boss." He answered, somehow still managing to drawl. I never really knew what it meant whenever I read that people drawled. Now I did. It's a weird thing they do with their lips. Ethan somehow made it look attractive. Well, it would have been if he wasn't being a complete asshole.

"Oh," Delsin said, stepping up to me and pushing me towards Ethan. I resisted a little. I had a feeling we were supposed to shake hands and I didn't really want to.

"Ethan," Delsin said, putting a little more pressure on my back but also glancing down at me in sympathy, "Ethan Quinn, this is Charlie…uh…" he flushed and chuckled awkwardly. Right, he didn't know my last name.

"Hunter." I supplied him with.

"Right," he said, "Charlie Hunter."

Ethan grinned slowly and offered his hand. As he did the sleeve of his hoodie hiked up a bit and I saw some familiar scars along his wrist. There was a similar spider-web network of scars across the back of his hand. I didn't look too long, not wanting to stare.

"A pleasure, little miss." He said, shaking my hand. It was more calloused than I'd expected it to be, like he'd worked with his hands a lot. Also, his hands were pretty big. Or maybe mine were just tiny…it was probably the latter but anyway he pretty much swallowed my hand with his.

"Sure, whatever." I mumbled. Like an adult.

He chuckled, and it was a rumbling kind of a chuckle. It reminded me a little of Oz.

"You owe me a thank-you." He said, letting go of my hand.

"Say what?" I answered.

"I believe I saved your life when we first met," he said. I glanced down at the unconscious Reds.

"I think we're even." I told him.

He started to retort, when I saw something behind him move. It was one of the Reds, the one Ethan had shot with metal. He had a gun in his good hand, fury in his eyes, and one hell of a rage-face as he stepped around the corner.

I didn't have time to warn him or do much except grab Ethan by the sleeve and yank him forward, trying to push him behind me. I managed to make him stumble to my side so I moved up as the Red fired, screaming in pure rage and pain.

I lifted my hand as soon as I heard the shot, convinced I was already too late and that either Ethan or me was about to get hit.

A small blast of air shot from my fingertips, unbidden. It wasn't much of a blast at all, at least, I hadn't thought it was. I was used to big, concussive bursts whenever I used air. I didn't know I could concentrate the bursts at all.

I especially didn't know I could concentrate it down to the size of a bullet.

I felt the air channel down to a narrow point and I made the mistake of blinking, so I missed exactly what happened, but the sudden halt in the rage-screaming gave me a pretty good clue. When I opened my eyes from the fraction-of-a-second blink, the Red had hole in his head, blood spilling from it and down into his gaping, shocked eyes and open mouth.

He looked…horrible.

He looked surprised, mostly, confused and then…nothing. It's terrifying to watch the life leave someone's eyes. One minute there's this light, this intelligent, living spark, and the next…there's nothing. Just this cold, blank husk. All trace of personality, all history, all thought, all emotion, just…gone.

I processed these thoughts in about two seconds, and then the man crumpled into a heap, his gun clattering on the pavement.

For a long moment, no one said or did anything.

Then Ethan took a step towards the dead man, stopped, looked at me and whistled softly.

"Damn, kid." He murmured.

I looked up at him, the full realization hitting me. I actually _felt_ the blood leave my face and I turned back to Delsin and Fetch. They looked just about as shocked as I felt.

"I-I-" I stammered, unable to find the right words that would make this any less awful. "Did-Did I-just…"

Fetch nodded slowly.

"It happened too quick for me to see," Delsin said, "but it looks like you shot the bullet back at him."

"Damn, kid." Ethan repeated. When I looked back at him I realized he actually looked…not scared, but definitely shaken. I'd even go so far as to use the word discomforted.

You can imagine how I felt.

I'd just killed a man.

Again.


	8. Chapter 7: The Detective

I don't know for how long I stood there, just staring at the man I'd just inadvertently killed. To say I was having déjà vu was to put it mildly. More like I was having a really bad trip, again. The man on the ground kept changing from himself into…Him. The first man I'd killed.

I closed my eyes, but it didn't help. He was still there, shifting into something he wasn't. I shook my head, desperately trying to get rid of those memories, or at least shove them back into that little dark hole in my mind where I kept them, but I could feel them crawling out, digging into my eyeballs do drag themselves out again.

The feeling of someone wrapping their hands around my neck made me panic, especially as I felt my air getting cut off.

I gasped, opening my eyes, and instinctively flailed against…no one. No one was choking me, of course, I was just losing my grip on reality.

No biggie.

Yeah, I'm not good at lying.

In my blind panic, and stumbled back from the body and Ethan, who looked even more bewildered and I could see him wonder just what kind of nutjob it was Delsin had found this time. I forgot to keep my feet under me as my body continued to move backwards and I felt myself tipping over, only to be stopped by Delsin reaching out and grabbing me by the shoulders.

"Are you okay?" he asked, quiet, but in an urgent tone. God, he was worried too.

I turned around, realizing for the first time that I was almost panting, and I was shaking like a leaf.

"Yeah," I breathed, then shook my head, "no. No. No, I'm not. I-I need to go, I-I need to-" I babbled all this in about half of a second and started wandering away from them, blindly. I had no idea where I was going, I just knew I had to get away from…well, from what I had done.

At some point I broke into a jog, and I heard Delsin coming after me.

"Charlie-" he said, but was interrupted by the distant wail of police sirens.

That was a little too much. The sirens, the body, this horrible, choking, thick feeling in my chest that wouldn't let me breathe, it was too much again.

"Oh God." I managed to say, right before I threw up again.

By this time there wasn't much to throw up, so mostly I just heaved and a lot of spit came out, but that was it.

Delsin watched from a politely safe distance while Fetch moved up slowly to join him, biting her lips worriedly. Ethan continued to stare at the body like he didn't even see what was going on behind him, or hear it.

When my stomach finally gave up trying to empty itself of crap that wasn't there, I looked up, blinking tears of exertion out of my eyes while I tried to gingerly wipe at my mouth.

"I swear I don't usually puke this much." I mumbled weakly.

"It's okay, Charlie." Delsin said awkwardly. He hesitated, then stepped forward, obviously hoping he wasn't about to get another mouthful of puke dumped on his shoes. I turned my face to the wall I was leaning against so he could relax a bit more.

"I didn't mean to do it." I said, as if that made it any better, "I didn't mean to. I don't even know how I did it. I didn't mean to."

For some reason in moments of intense trauma or emotion, I lose all control of my vocal chords. I had meant to try and sound calm and sincere. Instead my voice shook and jumped all over the place like a kid trying not to cry, and finally it just gave out altogether so I had to whisper the last four words.

I suppose I was a kid trying not to cry, though.

"I know." Delsin said, putting a hand on my shoulder, "I know you didn't mean to. It was an accident." I saw him look at Fetch, "Sometimes accidents happen."

Fetch had this look of understanding, and a flicker of pain passed over her. Then she came over to put a hand on my shoulder too.

"We know you didn't mean to." She said, "We'll talk about it later, though. The cops will be here in a minute, we need to be out of here by then."

"What will they think?" I asked. They both shrugged.

"Let them figure it out." Fetch said, "We'll deal with that later, too. Sometimes you just have to roll with the punches when there isn't time for planning." She looked back over her shoulder at Ethan, who was flexing his hands for some reason.

"Yo, Ethan!" she shouted. He jumped slightly and looked back at us.

"Time to fly." Delsin said, already pulling me after him towards the end of the alley. Ethan nodded, looked at me, gave a ghost of a smile, winked, and then took off at a sprint that wasn't quite as fast as Fetch, but it wasn't for lack of trying.

"Can you run?" Delsin asked me.

I looked up at him. He looked…surprisingly calm about all this. I thought he would at least look a little worried, and he sort of did, but I had the very strong feeling that it wasn't worry about what had just happened. I had the feeling it was worry about me.

That broke my heart almost as much as the other option would have.

I bit my lip so I wouldn't start getting all weepy right in front of him, and nodded.

"Let's go." Delsin said, then turned into what I thought was a rock-monster. Like, it completely encased him, but then he started running, and I saw what he was doing. He was connecting to the concrete so he could move faster.

Fetch gave me a consoling side-hug, and followed, leaving me to catch up.

It's hard to run when you feel like you're about to choke already, and running while crying makes it that much harder, but somehow I managed it.

I started teleporting, too, vaguely aware that I was trying to test my theory of acceleration and its effect on teleportation. Teleporting while running did indeed give me an extra boost. I would never be anywhere near as fast as any of the others, but I could at least keep them in my line of sight.

I probably should have been happier about the discovery. But it was kind of hard to be happy about anything at the moment.

* * *

Detective Rick Calhoun had been watching the press conference in his office. Or rather, he had been half-heartedly listening to it while he went over the paperwork for a domestic violence case he'd been involved in. It was a simple matter, open and shut.

They'd pretty much walked right in on the scumbag beating his wife to a pulp. Who had started the fight in the first place didn't really matter now. The wife had defensive wounds, she'd called the cops in the first place. The only reason he'd been called in was because the husband had had a previous record that Rick had unfortunately been involved in when he first started as a patrolman here.

Odds were the man wouldn't be getting out for a good long while.

Rick sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. All of the technical jargon and legal phrasing made his head hurt after a while, and God knew he didn't anything else to cause more headaches. He already got two migraines a week, he didn't need more.

He ran a hand through his mop of what had once been solid black hair. It wasn't quite gray, not yet, anyway but it was trying to be. His beard was salt and pepper colored, but his hair seemed to be changing all at once. Right now it was almost charcoal gray, but still just a shade or two too dark to be called it.

Not that he paid much attention to it anymore.

Rick didn't have mirrors in his apartment. Not unless you counted the little mirror in the bathroom that barely showed all of his face when he did look in it, which he didn't.

In fact Rick almost missed the whole thing when it went down.

He had taken a break to use the toilet down the hall, go get some coffee from the break-room, take three more ibuprofen (he'd already had six) and he'd just settled himself back down to his desk to sign off on the paperwork when the sound of an explosion immediately made him whip his head up to the TV screen again.

The commissioner, Douglas Newman, had insisted on not having too many officers with him when he made the big announcement regarding the Conduits. He wanted it all to feel as unthreatening as possible, so he'd opted to just have that little PA accompany him.

The first thing Rick wondered as he saw Newman hit the deck as bullets started flying, was if he regretted not having brought officers with him.

One of the cameramen at least had the sense to whip the camera around to broadcast what was happening. Rick rushed to the TV and stared into it, getting a good look at each and every gunman. The red jackets were something he hadn't seen before.

What was this? Some sort of anti-Conduit protest? Pro-Conduit protest?

One of the gunmen was mounting the platform, hitting Newman with the butt of his pistol. Rick watched it all as he retrieved his badge and gun holster from his desk, and was reaching for his coat when the little PA launched himself at the gunman as he started to say something.

Rick heard someone shout "Nolan get down!" right before a gunshot cut the voice off with a bark of pain.

Rick felt his jaw tighten as he watched. He could already hear the other people on his floor scrambling, phones ringing shrilly, people barking orders to each other. Chaos was already in full swing. The little PA, Nolan, was staring at the gunman, who stared him down, ready to pull the trigger.

Just then, a blast of some invisible force (air?) slammed into the gunman so hard it spun him and ripped the gun right out of his hand.

The cameraman turned the camera to where the blast had come from.

Rick's eyes widened and his hands slowed in their adjusting of his black trench-coat. A Conduit. A bioterrorist. A small, bedraggled, scrawny little Asian kid with blue hair and widened, frightened eyes, standing there with her hand raised. Her hand was aglow with white energy.

Blue hair.

"I saw a some kid with blue hair running from the building," a voice whispered in his mind, the voice of the woman who had seen what had happened, "yeah, the same one. Same one." This after being shown a picture of the kid in question.

The only one he had. Only one he could find.

There she was. After all this time.

A shot rang out, the kid flinched, and then just…disappeared.

Rick didn't wait to see more, he rushed out of his office and sprinted down the hall as fast as he could, trench-coat flapping against his legs.

She wasn't getting away, not this time.

* * *

"Oh, great."

It was Ethan who said this when I finally caught up to them, standing in a group, just around the corner of a building. I leaned around the corner to see what it was they were looking at, and felt my heart drop into my feet.

"Oh, crap." I said. Ethan and Fetch nodded in agreement while Delsin crossed his arms and lifted a hand to his chin, thoughtfully. If he had had a beard I bet he would have stroke it. As it was, he instead just let his eyes wander around the scene in quick, jerking, calculating motions. Always planning. I guess that's why he was the leader.

The care that had blown up was now a smoldering, blackened ruin. There were two firetrucks, three ambulances, and at least four cop cars with four cops for each car roaming around, taking statements, sectioning off the area, directing people into ambulances if they were in shock or wounded.

Nolan and Oz were still together, still at the back of the crowd, and Oz was letting do all the talking while Nolan spoke to a cop, gesturing dramatically to emphasize the noise and the confusion of the moment.

The poor cop was scribbling as fast as he could to keep up, nodding every once in a while.

I sighed in frustration and turned back to the others. I was so freakin' tired. I just wanted to crawl under a bridge and go to sleep. The whole day had been a nightmare, if I could just sleep it off maybe everything would go back to normal.

"What do we do, D?" Fetch asked Delsin.

"We should go home." Ethan answered, crossing his arms. "The Reds are gone, the situation is under control, the hurt are being taken care of, we should go while we can."

"And what am I supposed to do?" I asked, looking around the corner again. They might detain Oz just because he looked suspicious. I couldn't let that happen, I couldn't let him get in trouble just because of me. This whole thing had been my idea, I had to protect him.

"I'm not exactly part of your club, am I?" I reminded them, pointing back at Oz.

"I'm not leaving him to fend for himself." I said.

Ethan sighed and looked where I was pointing.

He raised an eyebrow…very judgmentally.

"_That's_ your friend?" he said, almost snorting with laughter.

"Says the guy who had metal poking out of his hands when I first saw him." I snapped back. He just chuckled more but…it was weird…he wouldn't meet my eyes. Not sure why that is.

"Okay, okay," Delsin sighed, flipping his hood up. Fetch eyed him, frowning.

"They'll recognize me," he explained, pulling the hood on my jacket up and over my head, "and your hair." He added. "You two they may not recognize," he continued, "but you don't have to come if you want. Go home and wait for us if you're not coming but I'm going to help Charlie out."

I adjusted the hood on my head and frowned.

"I'm not sure we don't look suspicious." I said. "Hoods are kind of a red-flag when it's not raining."

Delsin shrugged.

"Either way we're going to get attention," he said, "this way at least we won't be recognized right away. If we keep moving we might be able to get in and out without getting stopped."

"I'm coming." Fetch said, stepping up to join us as we started to walk towards the crowd. Ethan sighed loudly behind us, and then fell into step beside me.

"You did kill a guy for me, I guess." He muttered.

I almost punched him.

"Not now." I hissed. "Don't even allude to it. Not now."

"Sorry." Ethan replied. It was a surprisingly genuine apology.

Ethan strode ahead of us, then, hands in his pockets, whistling tunelessly. He aimed for Oz and Nolan, and he and Fetch created a sort of screen for Delsin and me so we wouldn't get noticed right away.

I had no idea how we were going to get Oz away from the cop. Nolan I wasn't worried about because he hadn't done anything wrong, in fact he more or less worked with the police, or at least the commissioner, so he would be safer probably if we just left him alone.

When we were about three feet away, I was just beginning to worry that I had no idea how to make this look natural when Fetch, bless her, took one for the team.

"Darling!" she exclaimed and all but tackled Oz.

He gave a loud grunt of surprise, the loudest I'd ever heard him give, and he had to stumble backwards to keep from falling over.

"I was so worried when I saw the news!" she continued, and started…kissing him. I don't think anyone expected that. She was peppering him with kisses and clinging to him. In short, she was making everything incredibly uncomfortable.

I gaped at her in shock and Oz looked just about as taken aback as I did, though not exactly as perturbed about it as Delsin looked. Delsin's jaw dropped open and Ethan's eyes got about as big as saucers.

"Oh thank you for finding him, officer!" she gushed, grabbing the arm of the stunned cop. Nolan recognized her, but caught on quickly to what was going on, so he very wisely kept his mouth shut. He met my eyes, nodded ever so slightly, and smiled. His way of thanking me, I guess.

I wonder what he would say when/if he found out I had just killed a man.

"Uh-y-you're, uh-I-" the cop stammered as Fetch grasped Oz's arm and started pulling him away, still showering him with affection while he awkwardly put an arm around her waist. We quickly followed, and I moved up to stand beside Oz, tugging at his arm so he looked down at me.

I saw him smile. Not just smirk, he actually smiled in relief and reached down with his free hand to give my arm a squeeze. He looked…proud.

God it was going to be hard to tell him what really happened, but for now I forced a smile on my face and kept my grip on his arm, if for nothing else than support.

Behind me I could hear the already fading sounds of order being restored: voices, calming down but still somewhat hysterical, horns beeping, cell-phones ringing, police scanners squawking, official jargon and codes being tossed around while in the distance more sirens wailed.

More news vans were arriving now, we went the opposite direction as we saw them pulling up.

Nearby, I heard a car-door slam and glanced back to see a man getting out of a car, flashing a badge at a cop who started to wave him away as he approached the freshly put up crime-scene tape. He was looking around, all business, very official, but somehow slovenly looking at the same time.

He was searching for something, clearly. I didn't see what, because I turned away to focus on Oz.

"We'll take you home." Delsin was saying, "Our home, I mean. If that's okay with you?" He looked to Oz as he said this. We rounded a corner, and as we did I took off my hood.

"Coffee?" Oz mumbled as Fetch disengaged herself from him and tried (not very well) to look as casual as possible.

"Yeah, we have coffee," Ethan said, "warm water, too."

Fetch reached around behind Oz and managed to slap Ethan in the arm. He grinned at her.

"Hmph." Oz said. He nodded.

We'd go.

* * *

"Detective Calhoun." Rick said to the officer who started to hold up his hand as he approached the tape. He held up his badge, the officer glanced at it, back at him, nodded, and then turned away to talk to one of the EMT's who was administering to a person wrapped in a foil blanket.

"Who's in charge here?" Rick asked a different officer who was walking briskly for his patrol car. Rick scanned the crowd, looking for blue hair. He didn't see it.

"Officer Greenly, sir." The officer answered. Rick looked at Greenly, who had his hat off and was standing on the other side of the tape, scribbling away in his notebook as quickly as he could. This was going to take a lot of paperwork, and every detail was going to be important. No wonder he was writing so quickly.

By the time Rick walked back the way he had come and reached Greenly, Greenly had already filled two more pages and was starting on a new page.

"Hey, Officer Greenly?" Rick said. Greenly looked up and squinted at him. Rick sighed, pushed his coat back and showed his badge one more time. Greenly straightened and smiled as courteously as he could to make up for his initial greeting.

"Yes, Detective?" he said, "We hadn't expected anyone to get here before ballistics got here."

"Yeah, well, this is a little different," Rick explained, "have you seen the kid with blue hair?" he asked. Greenly shook his head.

"No sir," he said, "by most witness accounts she took off with the Savior of Seattle when he and his group arrived, and no one's seen her since. Apparently they were chasing the gunmen who fled the scene. We have officers out looking for them right now, sir." He added when Rick started to ask another question.

Rick nodded.

"Which way did they go?" Rick asked, "I need to find that girl."

Greenly frowned slightly but pointing down the road they'd taken.

"Thanks." Rick mumbled, stalking back towards his car.

"Sir?" Greenly called after him. Rick stopped, reluctantly, and looked back at him.

"Apparently they…uh, well. One of them ran up the side of a building and the other two presumably followed. We're not sure where they went after that."

Rick sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose again, his headache coming back.

"Great. Thanks, Greenly." He said. He walked toward his car, when something out of the corner of his eye made him pause just as he was about to open the door.

It was a small group of friends it looked like, rounding a corner. A blond man walked behind a short figure in a black hoodie, and the man beside the black-clad one looked like a bum.

Rick frowned slightly, starting to turn back to the door when the little figure reached up and took off its hood just before disappearing around the corner.

Rick stiffened.

He saw a flash of blue.

(_Had to re-post this one (sorry!) because I forgot fanfiction is weird about breaking up the page so I had to put in dividers. Hopefully it worked this time. Sorry for the confusion!)_


	9. Chapter 8: Run-In With Rick

As we walked, Delsin, Fetch, and Ethan all chatted amongst each other. Mostly arguing about how Ethan really couldn't run off on his own like that and not expect to not be hurt, and all that kind of crap.

Oz looked kind of bewildered about the whole thing. At least…as bewildered as Oz gets. He just humphed to himself every once in a while and stroked at his beard.

"All right," Delsin said, getting fed up with arguing and taking a break to let Fetch and Ethan continue in the fight, "we have a place just outside of town. It's not too far away, and it's not too off from Elliot Bay."

"How scenic." I commented. Delsin grinned that lopsided grin.

"Yeah," he said, "I guess you could say-" he trailed off as he looked back at me, because he wasn't looking _at_ me anymore, but over my head at something, and his eyes narrowed, the smile slipping. Something about the look made me tense up, and even Fetch and Ethan noticed his sudden silence and turned to look back, immediately wary.

"Hey, no groupies, pal," Deslin said, turning completely around, "we've had a hell of a day, we're going home. Maybe later, okay?"

"This will only take a minute," a deep voice came from behind us, it sounded slightly southern, but only just enough to register as southern without sounding like he was about to say "Sweet tea" or "Guns".

I turned around, then (I know, delayed reaction) and saw that guy I'd seen a second ago. He was much bigger up close. Just a bit taller than Delsin, broader, and he looked older. He looked pretty grizzled; shaggy black-grayish hair, a beard that was more or less the same color, but what was more intimidating were those eyes. He had the most intense, icy-blue eyes I'd ever seen.

And he was looking right at me.

Oh, yeah, and I remembered he'd been waving around a badge, but he wasn't in uniform, which could only mean he was higher ranking officer. Maybe even a detective.

Well, the day was just one surprise after another, I must say. It wouldn't have surprised if a friggin' clown came out of an alley trying to kill me, that's how crazy the day had been for me. And the sun wasn't even setting yet.

Damn it.

I must have tensed up, and I know I took a step back because I bumped into Ethan, who had stepped up without me noticing. He put a hand on my shoulder, and it felt like a protective gesture. So he noticed the dude staring at me, too.

Not sure how you could not notice, I mean…pretty obvious.

"What will only take a minute?" Delsin asked, also moving up. Man, everyone must have felt threatened. We were like a pack of wary dogs, and not without good reason, I guess.

The man ignored Delsin completely and continued to stare at me, looking me over a couple of times as though to make sure of something.

"Charlene Hunter?" he asked.

Ethan tightened his grip on my shoulder.

"Who's asking?" Fetch demanded when I suddenly couldn't remember how to speak.

The man looked at her, I swear he hadn't blinked the whole time, and slowly pulled the flap of his trench-coat open to show the badge clipped onto his belt.

"Detective Rick Calhoun," he answered, starting to walk forward, "and you-" he looked back at me, here, "are wanted for questioning in relation to the homicide investigation of one Michael Everett. Come with me, please."

"Dude, that just happened." I heard Ethan mutter to himself. Right, he thought it was the guy I'd…well, I hadn't exactly shot him, but I'd killed him, back in the alley.

Well, this was going to be hard to explain.

Before I could say anything, Oz grunted, loudly, and stepped in between me and the detective. He slid his hands into his pockets, but he couldn't have looked any more threatening than if he'd been swinging around a chainsaw.

"Heard that cause of death on that was inconclusive," Oz said, "how's that a homicide investigation?"

The detective sighed, genuinely sounding tired.

"Sir, I don't decide what to call it," he said, "the official cause was death by asphyxiation caused by an unknown means. And Miss Hunter was seen fleeing the scene. I have to bring her in for questioning."

"Statute of limitations?" Oz pointed out.

Now the detective, Calhoun, just sounded annoyed.

"It's only been a year, sir. Since Miss Hunter here is suspected of being involved in a criminal offense and even if she only gets charged with assault, statute of limitations on that is two years. If it's manslaughter, that's three years, and if it's murder, there is no limit."

Crap.

One thing that did strike me was that he had yet to actually use the term 'suspect' to describe me.

"Am I a suspect?" I asked, peeking out from behind Oz.

"Let us handle this, kid." Ethan muttered at me, pulling me back a bit. "There's something else going on here."

I looked up at him, confused.

"How do you know?" I asked.

"Been on the wrong side of the law before," he answered, and flashed me a cocky grin, "hard to believe, I know."

I rolled my eyes at him.

"Anyway," he continued, "I know when a cop is just doing his job and when there's something personal going on, too. He's looking at you way too hard to just be doing his job. There's something else there."

That sure didn't make me feel nervous. Not a bit.

"Since you were the last person to be seen around the victim, and considering your relation to the victim, yes, miss, you are a suspect." Calhoun answered, moving so he could be seen around Oz. His shoulders were starting to tense up and while he kept his hands down and at his sides, the fingers on his right hand were twitching ever so slightly.

It reminded me a little of a gunslinger. He expected trouble, and he was used to dealing with trouble. And he didn't look scared, even when outnumbered five to one by Conduits…and a really upset looking homeless guy.

Dude had balls.

"Will you please come with me, Miss Hunter?" he said, polite, but with a very clear ring of authority in his voice. He expected only one answer, and anything else would not go over well.

"You have a warrant or something?" Fetch demanded, also moving up to stand beside Delsin and Oz. Jeeze, they were making a wall around me.

It was actually kind of sweet.

"Sir, she's suspected of wrong-doing. I don't need a warrant." Calhoun growled back.

A shadow moved over us as he spoke. At first I thought it was a cloud, but it was moving _way_ too fast to be a cloud. And the air was kind of, I guess flickering, with an electric energy that made me look up. _Way_ up.

The giant Angel was back; He Who Dwells, or, Eugene, or whatever the hell he was called.

"I don't want any trouble-" Rick started, "but I have a job to do, and-"

The Angel had stopped, hovering for a moment, and suddenly he flew straight down, right behind Calhoun. He slammed into the asphalt so hard it cracked like a windshield around him.

Calhoun whirled, completely surprised, and for a man being faced by a ten-foot Angel wielding a huge sword, he took it rather well. I mean, he didn't immediately start shooting, crying, running, or pissing himself. He just kind of stood there, looking surprised but that's it.

Like I said, dude had balls.

"Why do you harass my friends, mortal?" The Angel bellowed at him, so loud I think it rattled the windows around us.

"Eugene, he's a cop," Delsin shouted, "don't hurt him."

"Or summon demons to go after him." Fetch muttered.

"The question still stands!" Eugene shouted, "Why do you harass those who just saved those _you _are sworn to protect?"

"Come on." Ethan said, pulling on my shoulder again, away from the rest of them.

"He's the perfect distraction," he continued, "let's go."

"Oz?" I whispered loudly at him. Oz turned and cocked an eyebrow, seemed to know what I was going on, and nodded.

"Go." He said, "I'll come. Later." I guess he was worried about being able to keep up, and I had a feeling he wouldn't want a ride from Eugene. That would be the weirdest thing to see, a giant Angel carrying a homeless guy.

There's something symbolic about that mental image, but whatever.

"On the count of three, do your teleporting thing." Ethan said, still pulling me away from Eugene.

"I'm not harassing I'm-" Calhoun was trying to say.

"Following an agenda!" Eugene bellowed.

"One," Ethan said, "two," we both tensed as he let go of my shoulder, "three!"

He broke into that stupidly fast sprint of his while I blinked ahead and just kept blinking, following him as he ran his heart out.

Rick saw Charlie out of the corner of his eye as she and the blond guy starting running. Or, the guy started running, Charlie just, disappeared and then reappeared about ten feet up from where she had been.

He growled under his breath, not out of anger, but just frustration. A little bit of panic might have been mixed in there, as well.

He'd waited so long to finally find her, and now she was running away again.

"No, no, no, come on." He muttered, turning away from the gigantic Angel (and he still wasn't at all sure he wasn't hallucinating that thing somehow. He had seen a glimpse of it on TV when the Savior of Seattle…the Conduit, Bioterrorist, whatever he was, had been fighting Augustine.)

He'd just assumed…he didn't know what he had assumed. That it was an illusion? The side effect of another power?

Whatever he'd assumed, it didn't matter now.

He started running after them, but the purple-haired woman bolted at him in a neon blur. He felt a sharp push at his chest, not really a punch, but a block that stopped him dead in his tracks. The purple-haired woman glared at him, holding a hand out warningly while Delsin, the Savior, crossed his arms.

"You're obstructing justice." Rick said, "I could have you arrested for obstruction of justice." He looked over her shoulder, no sign of Charlie or the blond guy.

He felt his jaw tighten in anger.

"Yeah, good luck with that, cop," the purple-haired woman laughed, "we're really good at gettin' out of that."

"Fetch," Delsin chided, while the Angel landed behind them, flapping his wings dramatically.

"You will _not_ incarcerate the guardians of humanity!" he shouted, making Calhoun wince.

"Hey, Dweller," Delsin snapped at the Angel, "mind putting on a muffler? I still have eardrums, you know."

The Angel grumbled to itself and shifted around in what could be construed as an embarrassed manner.

"Look," Delsin said, "I appreciate your position, I really do. You're doing your job, I get that. But, that kid saved lives today, and she helped save my friend, so you can see how it's hard for me to imagine her as a suspect in a murder case."

Delsin smirked at him and rubbed the back of his neck.

"I mean, the kid's not even five feet tall," he said, "and weighs, what, a hundred pounds if she's been dunked in a river? She doesn't seem like the killer type to me."

Rick let his shoulders relax. It was too late to give chase now, she'd gotten too much of a head-start. And odds were she'd stick with the other Conduits now that she'd found them, so he could find her again with them, if need be. And this Savior guy seemed reasonable. Maybe he could talk him into letting him just talk to her.

"She doesn't, I know." He said, his voice a low growl, not because he was angry, that's just how his voice was.

"Believe it or not, I don't want it to be her, either," he said, "but the evidence is…pretty damning. Especially with the unclear means of asphyxia, if she gets charged, prosecution is gonna have a hell of a field day with her."

"That's only if you can catch her," Delsin pointed out, "if you've been chasing her for a year, seems she's pretty good at running."

"I would have had her if you hadn't stopped me." Rick snapped.

"You, uh, did see she teleports, right?" Delsin asked. "Kind of hard to catch someone who does that."

"Look," Purple-Hair, Fetch, said, "we'll talk it out. Until we do, you stay away from her, got it?"

"Or suffer the wrath of-" Eugene started to scream when Delsin tossed a puff of smoke into the Angel's face, cutting him off with a snort.

"-wrath of He Who Dwells." He finished in a mumble.

Rick knew he couldn't win this one. How could he? These were people who were making their own rules as they went. They were and weren't people anymore.

He gave a shake of his head. Thinking about this wasn't getting him any closer to the girl. He turned to Delsin and took a step towards him. Rick kept his hands down at his sides, looking as nonthreatening as possible.

"Delsin Rowe," he said, calmly, without any anger or frustration seeping into his voice, though some desperation did slip in, much to his annoyance, "I'm asking you to let me talk to her. That's it. I need to talk to her."

Delsin frowned, glanced at Fetch, and uncrossed his arms.

"I have the feeling you want to talk to her about something other than that man's death." He said. Behind them, the Angel shifted, tilting its head in curiosity. He could feel its glowing eyes boring into him.

"I do." Rick answered. "But that's something I have to talk about with her, and maybe not right away. But I do need to speak with her about Michael Everett's death. She has to answer for that."

Delsin rubbed the back of his neck, looking very unhappy as he gazed at the ground. He sighed and looked at Rick, meeting his eyes as he squared himself up.

"We'll talk to her, first." Delsin said, "I'll see what I can do, but until I hear her side of the story I'm not going to just hand her over to you and the police. She deserves at least that much."

Rick reluctantly gave a nod of affirmation.

"Fair enough." He said. Delsin gave a nod, and he and Fetch turned, starting to move away.

"One way or another," he said as they turned, "I will find her again."

Fetch frowned at him, and acted like she was going to say something, but Delsin laid a hand on her shoulder, stopping her.

"Don't threaten," Delsin warned him, "don't threaten her. Don't threaten us. We haven't threatened you, we expect the same courtesy."

"It's not a threat, son," Rick answered, "I'm just telling you that I'm going to do my job. Evne if you make it difficult."

Delsin frowned, but nodded. Then he, Fetch, and the Angel left. One flying, the other two racing along the street in blurs of neon and concrete.

Rick watched them go, conflicting emotions bearing down on him. On one hand he was angry, angry that he'd failed, that he'd let her get away, again.

On the other hand, a part of him was strangely…relieved.

She was safe, at least for now.

But how long would that last?


End file.
